


Stories Stacked Up So Tall

by vixalicious



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death: Off-Screen, Sad Orphan Liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vixalicious/pseuds/vixalicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam spends his days in a dreary booth selling train tickets and daydreaming about his favorite customer, Harry. When Harry gets assaulted at the station, Liam saves his life and finds that his quiet existence is turned upside down. As Harry languishes in a coma, Liam gets closer with to Harry’s family and to his best mate, Louis. There’s only one problem: everyone thinks Liam is Harry’s boyfriend. To make matters worse, Liam starts to fall for Louis. But how can Liam come clean without losing everything? An AU based on the movie ‘While You Were Sleeping.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stories Stacked Up So Tall

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Platform Fire by Jack’s Mannequin
> 
> Be warned, this doesn't follow the movie plot 100% because I haven't actually seen it in about five years, and there's far too many jokes about The Smiths for a fic about a band who are probably too young to know who The Smiths are.
> 
> Thanks to:  
> [Foreverlarrup](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Foreverlarrup/pseuds/Foreverlarrup) for cheerleading  
> [torakowalski](http://archiveofourown.org/users/torakowalski/pseuds/torakowalski) for amazing beta and Brit-picking services. Any remaining errors are the things she tried to talk me out of doing, and entirely my fault. :)  
> And to [harriet_vane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/harriet_vane/pseuds/harriet_vane) for asking the all-important question "Why doesn't this fandom have a While You Were Sleeping AU?"
> 
> The companion mix by prettykitty_aya is [here](http://prettykitty-fic.livejournal.com/32737.html) \- check it out!
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> This is a work of fiction, and in no way reflects on the real people whose personalities have been fictionalized within. Special apologies to the boys' families, who are portrayed here and really haven't asked for this level of fame. However, they're so well known that I felt it would be strange to use fake names.
> 
> PLEASE DO NOT: repost this story anywhere (links are fine, recs are fantastic, reposting is bad), mention it on any non-fandom site such as (but not limited to) Goodreads, or read/share any excerpt from it in any public forum (radio, television, convention, etc) without the express written permission from the author. Thank you!

“You’ve cut off all your hair!”

Liam looks up from the notebook where he’d been doodling, lyrics and the snippet of a melody that’s been stuck in his head all day.  It’s his favourite customer, The One with All the Hair.  He likes to name the regulars like they’re episodes of Friends.  It makes the time pass.  When you’re all alone behind a ticket counter, you have to make your own fun.  Liam’s pretty used to it; he’s worked here for over a year now.  The One with All the Hair comes to Liam’s till at Burley Park station almost every week, on Thursdays or Fridays, and he never uses the ticket machines which threaten Liam’s job daily.  Liam smiles, going for his friendliest one, and runs a hand across his newly-buzzed head.  “I did indeed.  Well spotted.  Off to Horsforth again?”

“Ah, no.”  The boy looks sheepish, like Liam has caught him out at something, but Liam doesn’t know what that would be.   He’s just wearing a thin white t-shirt under his coat, like it isn’t a cold, drizzly December day out.  Liam’s bundled up in half the clothes he owns just not to turn into a ice lolly in his little booth; he’s lived here for nearly two years now, but he’ll never get used to how much colder it seems in Leeds than it ever did back home in Wolverhampton.  The boy shakes his hair into his eyes like a sheepdog, then brushes it back.  It’s a nervous habit, Liam’s noticed, and it shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.  “Headed to exotic Holmes Chapel.  Christmas with the family and all that.”

“Oh, of course,” Liam nods.  Of course the One with All the Hair is going home to visit his family for Christmas.  Because he’s perfect like that:  perfect hair, perfect face, perfect life.  It makes sense.  They probably have a huge tree and go caroling and whatever else posh people do.   Liam has been doing his level best to forget that Christmas exists, much less happening next week.  His level best is not that awesome, to be honest.  He clears his throat and asks, “Open return?”

“Nah, coming back on the twenty-seventh,” The boy shrugs.  “Gotta be back to ring in the New Year.”

Liam nods like he understands, and rings up the ticket as the boy slides a credit card into the pass-through tray.  The mechanics of the transaction distract him, and he’s quiet as he does his work.

“I like it, by the way.” The boy grins, all dimples and sparkling green eyes, as he slides the ticket and his card from the tray.

Liam’s brain stutters just a bit.  “Sorry?”

“The hair.  I like it, it suits you.”

“Thanks,” Liam beams, and tries pretty unsuccessfully not to blush.  “Happy Christmas.”

The guy nods and walks away, headed for the platform around the corner.   Liam watches him go, admiring the line of his dark peacoat with the collar flipped up, the expensive-looking leather messenger bag slung over one shoulder.  Liam could never pull that off, even if he could afford – well, any of it.  He’s pretty sure that bag alone costs more than a month’s rent.  They definitely live in different worlds, he and the One with All the Hair.

But if Liam sometimes imagines what it would be like if their lives were intertwined, if they held hands and if they had movie dates and if they had dinner parties with their friends like his parents did when he was a kid, and if they were getting on the train together and going to spend Christmas with the in-laws… well, if that happens, that’s Liam’s own business.  He sighs, and then scribbles a lyric down in his notebook, _you flip my heart when you flip your hair_.

He looks up when he hears the shouting, because it’s a Thursday afternoon and the station is next to deserted, so he sees them running away.  Two kids, barely teenagers really, shouting and yelling and running toward the way out.  And between them they’re tossing a bag - expensive, leather, and absolutely not theirs - so Liam gets up, ready to make the call that will summon the police, ready to tell the One with All the Hair that he’s on it when he comes skidding around the corner after those hooligans.

Except he doesn’t.

Liam’s pushing out the door before he even really thinks about it, heading for the platform.  His heart stops a second when he turns the corner, but there’s no one there, and for a second he thinks that maybe he missed the boy running after them, or that he must have gone in the other direction.

Then a wind picks up, a piece of paper, a receipt fluttering in the wind, and Liam looks down as he steps to the edge of the platform and sees the boy lying prone, his eyes shut and his face pale, blood trickling slowly across his forehead.

“Hey,” Liam calls, and his voice is scratchy and he has to lick his lips and swallow and try again.  “Excuse me, sir?  Are you alright?”

_Are you alive?_ He thinks, but either way, there’s no answer.  The boy has missed landing on the electrified third rail, and Liam sends up a thanks for that, but he’s not moving.

A lady dressed in a suit wheels her bag around the corner, mobile phone pressed to her ear, and Liam uses his most authoritative, ‘I-work-here’ voice as he shouts to her, “Madam, please call 999, this man’s been injured.”

Then he hears the electronic whoosh of the board, updating the arrivals into the tiny station, and the 14:15 to Leeds Station is right on time.  And less than two minutes away.

The woman is dialing, and some part of Liam’s brain registers her excited recitation to the emergency operator, but mostly he’s thinking, _they won’t make it, there’s no time, he’s going to die_.  And Liam can’t have that, he can’t lose anyone else, not even the stranger he thinks about sometimes while he’s making tea for one in his tiny flat.

So he jumps.

~*~

Later, when they’re all in the ambulance and it’s screaming toward the hospital, the paramedic lads will ask him what it felt like, with the train barreling down at them, and he’ll just shake his head helplessly.  He doesn’t really remember it, it’s all noise and wind and the faint smell of rich cologne from hoisting the boy over his shoulders in a fireman’s lift.  Harry, they called him, after they checked his wallet.

He’s in a neck brace now, this Harry, the One with All the Hair, clapped to a board with his vitals being checked and they’re saying things like ‘head trauma’ and ‘possible spinal injury’ and Liam worries for a second that he shouldn’t have moved him, that maybe he made it worse, but that’s silly.  Worse would have been being squashed by a train, and that didn’t happened and that’s got to be worth it and it’s got to be that Harry will wake up fine and the only lasting injury from the whole thing will be the throb in Liam’s ankle from landing wrong.  That’s the only acceptable outcome here.

The ankle’s the only reason he’s riding along, they’d just bundled him up in with Harry because it was easier, and because he jumped to save a man and they seem to think that was extraordinary, like Liam had a choice in the matter.

In the chaos of A&E, Harry’s swept away, and Liam spends the next couple of hours waiting on someone to spend five minutes looking at an x-ray to confirm that his ankle is only twisted a bit, and he limps out of the triage area under his own steam.  He knows he’s supposed to head out now, but he can’t stop thinking about Harry, wondering what’s happened to him.  He turns down a corridor, and there’s a nurses station ahead, staffed by a sole woman rifling through a tall stack of charts.  He clears his throat as he walks up, and she looks up and gives him a cross look.  “You aren’t supposed to be back here.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Liam starts, and he really is.  “I just, this bloke I came in with, Harry, he was hurt and I wanted to make sure he was okay before I left, that he hasn’t...  That he’s okay?  He was the one from the train accident?”

“Oh.” She softens.  “Were you the one who helped him then?  The paramedics couldn’t stop talking about it.”

Liam blushes, because she’s suddenly looking at him like he’s something special, and he doesn’t know what to do with that.  “Is he alright?  They’d said something about his spine, and I didn’t know - “

“No, no, that’s fine.  We’re really more worried about his head - he took quite a knock,” She shakes her head, and gets up from her seat.  “C’mon, I’ll show you to him.  Against the rules, really, so don’t say anything, but you ought to get to see him.”

Liam follows her down another hallway, past rooms where there are families crowded in and some that are quiet.  An elderly woman catches his eye as he walks past, as she looks up from her seat by a bedside, and Liam nods at her.  Then the nurse stops and waves at a door.  “He’s in here.  We’ve called his family, and they’re on their way, but I don’t see the harm in letting you sit with him ‘til they get here.”

She opens the door, and there’s Harry, propped up in the bed, tucked into white hospital blankets, wires running to monitors.  He looks smaller somehow, and Liam swallows hard.  He starts to step into the room, but a pompous voice from the hallway stops him.

“Nurse, is this young man a family member?”

Liam sees the distaste that flashes across her face before she schools her expression.  She grips Liam’s arm and nods.  “Of course, Doctor.”

The doctor gives Liam a once-over, and even Liam, who widely admits he’s oblivious to a lot of things in life, knows he’s been somehow found wanting.  “A brother, then?”

Liam starts to speak, because he never meant to get anyone in trouble, or to break the rules, but the nurse squeezes his arm hard.  He tries not to squeak from the pain, or from the shock when she says, “No, boyfriend.”

Her smile turns sickly sweet as she beams at the doctor, and Liam thinks he never wants to make this lady mad.  “You wouldn’t want to be found turning him away, now would you?  PR nightmare, that.”

“No, no,” the doctor declares huffily and stalks away, waving over his shoulder.  “Carry on.”

She waits ‘til he rounds the corner before muttering, “Homophobic git,” under her breath as she pushes Liam into the room. “Sorry, I knew that would get rid of him.  He’s been given a warning for being rude to same-sex couples.”

Liam waves away the apology, and she gestures to a chair in the corner.  “I’m going now, just clear out when his family shows up.”

She turns on her heel and is gone before Liam can stammer out his thanks, and then it’s just him and Harry in the room, monitors beeping quietly in the background.

“So, um.” Liam looks down at Harry’s prone form.  He still looks pale, but the blood’s all been wiped away and there’s a pristine bandage in its place, half hidden under dark curls of hair.  Liam shoves his hands in his pockets.  “Hi, Harry.  I’m, uh.  I’m Liam.  Liam Payne.  From the train station.”

Okay, he’s a moron, but he feels weird about the whole thing.  There’s a chart clipped to the edge of the bed, and Liam picks it up.  Harry Edward Styles, it says, and his birthday’s there - he’s six months younger than Liam, which he wouldn’t have guessed from the confident way Harry acted.  His address is listed in Holmes Chapel, which Liam knew, and then under medical history, it mentions a previous visit for a sprained wrist, and ‘patient has two supernumerary nipples; negative for mitral valve prolapse.’  Liam pauses for a second, because he’s always sucked at the sciences, but he’s pretty sure he knows what supernumerary means.  He thinks.  Or at least he hopes.  He looks at Harry, then at the chart again, then back at Harry.

It would be creepy to look.  It’s just.  Extra nipples?  Like a cat, he wonders, or like extra ones together like a two-headed calf in the biology textbooks from school? 

He can’t help it, and takes a quick peek down the wide collar of Harry’s hospital gown, and yup, extra.  Not weird or anything though.  Enough of being a creeper though, he thinks.

“So you’ve banged yourself up, mate.  You should have just let them have the bag.” Liam frowns, and settles down in the chair next to Harry.  “Because that was scary, man.  You should wake up, and then I can tell you how scary it was, and we can both agree not to do that again.”

There’s no response, of course, and Liam still feels like an idiot who’s talking to himself.  He sighs for a moment, scrubbing his hands across his face to try and wipe away how tired he feels before looking over at Harry again.  He promised the nurse he’d do this; he should give it a proper go.  “The nurse says your parents, or your family or whatever, are on their way.  So you won’t have to put up with me for long, but.  Well, I’ll keep you company.”  He takes Harry’s hand in his, because that’s comforting, right?  “Let’s see.  You don’t seem like a show tunes kind of guy.  Hmm.  How about some Katy Perry?”

He sings his way through a few recent pop hits, and some Take That, and then moves on to a retrospective of The Beatles before the door swings open.

There’s a couple standing there, a lady who looks a lot like Harry - at least she probably does when she doesn’t have tears streaming down her face - and a stocky older man who looks like he builds things for a living.  Behind them is a pretty girl about his own age, a sister surely.

Liam hops up out of the chair like he’s been shocked, dropping Harry’s hand like it’s a lump of coal afire.  He can explain, he thinks, horrified, or maybe they won’t have noticed.  But before he can stutter out anything, Harry’s mum has him wrapped in a tight hug.  “Oh, thank you.  Thank you, thank you.”

He hugs her back, because he doesn’t know what else to do and it seems rude not to.  He pats her awkwardly with one hand, and the look on his face must give away his panic, because the man steps up to him.  “The doctor told us, told us everything.  About how you... about you pulling our Harry from the tracks and-”

Just then, the nurse from earlier rushes in, looking panicked.  Liam gives her his best ‘save me’ look, and it works so well, because she promptly shoves him under a bus.  “Mr. and Mrs. Cox, I see you’ve met our hero.  It’s not every day your boyfriend saves you from a train.”

“No, indeed not.” Mr. Cox smiles at him jovially, and Liam actually feels faint.  He always thought that was a thing that only happened in the movies, but if Harry’s mum wasn’t holding on to him, he’d be worried about his own ability to stay upright.  This isn’t happening.

“And his mum and his _step-dad_ have driven all the way down from Holmes Chapel.” The nurse keeps digging them in though, smiling at Liam through gritted teeth, widening her eyes at him and it occurs to Liam finally that she’s worried she’ll get in trouble for this.  He doesn’t want that, but he doesn’t know what to do besides look at her helplessly.  “Isn’t that nice, er. Uh.”

“Liam.” He interjects weakly, and Harry’s mum looks up from where she’s been making a puddle on his shirt.

“Liam.’ She smiles at him.  “Liam, it’s so nice to meet you.  Obviously, not like this, we’d have liked to have met you properly-”

“If we’d known you existed,” Harry’s sister interjects with a frown.  She has her arms crossed, hugging herself tightly, and she hasn’t really taken her eyes off her brother.

“If we’d known,” Harry’s mum agrees, her smile dimming.  “I knew something was going on, a mother always knows, you know, he’s been dodging coming home on weekends for ages, but he never said.  Well, not that we would have _minded,_ he has to have _known_ we wouldn’t have minded... “

She trails off, and her husband reaches out a comforting hand.  “He’d have known, love, and we’ll make sure he knows when he wakes up.”

Oh.  Oh god, Liam thinks.  Harry’s not gay.  Or he’s not out.  Or he’s not out because he’s NOT GAY and Liam is an awful, awful person for not stopping this ruse right now but then Harry’s mum hugs him some more and then the sister joins in, and well.  It’s been a long time since anyone’s hugged Liam properly.  He chokes out a lie and tries not to hate himself for it.  “I... It was a new thing, really.”  And they just hug him harder.

The next thing he knows, he’s helping Harry’s step-dad (“Call me Robin, son!” and really, Liam has no defence against that) get tea in for everyone.  It will be fine, he tells himself, he can just help out and get them all settled in and then he’ll slip away for the night and just never come back.  He can have this one night of feeling like he belongs somewhere, like he has a family, and they won’t be hurt by it, not really.  Harry’ll wake up, and they’ll all talk about how weird it was, and Liam can just.  Find another job.  Or move.  He really can’t be expected to come up with a detailed plan, it’s been a trying day.

~*~

Louis pushes through the doors to the visiting room at something between a fast stride and a dead run.  It looks like any other A&E he’s seen, all greenish fluorescent lighting and dirty chairs from the 80s spilling stuffing from their seams, just like when he’d broken his arm when he was ten or that time when one of the twins had such a high fever and his mum was so scared and –

Okay, it’s possible Louis really hates hospitals.  And jet lag.  He’s been up for ages, flying home from Argentina to London, and all he’d wanted in the world when he was stood in Euston waiting for the train home was a shower and to sleep for days, when he’d got a text from Harry’s sister.

He scans the room quickly but doesn’t see any of them.  Any of Harry’s family, who he’s come to love like his own over the last couple of years at university.  He swallows tightly again, trying not to let the worry overcome him now, now that he’s here.  All the way up on the train from London and the car ride from their flat, he’s been trying to tell himself that it was fine, that he’d walk in and Hazza’d be sitting up in the bed, ordering them all about like a prince, milking his injuries for all the sympathy in the world.

That hope dies when the receptionist clears him through, points him back to the trauma waiting room, and Louis tries to steel himself for the worst.

“Lou!”  Gemma cries and gets up from the corner that she’s huddled in with her parents and some bloke Louis’s never seen before.  She runs and gives him a big hug, and he wraps her up tight.  “He won’t wake up, Lou,” she whispers, and there’s a ragged edge in her voice, like she’s been crying or been trying not to, and he hugs her tighter.

“We’ll see about that,” he huffs, all false bravado.  “I’ll get in there and start threatening to spill all his state secrets, see how quickly that gets him up and about.”

That gets a watery laugh from her and Louis squeezes her once more, before tucking her under his arm so they can head toward her parents.  He whispers conspiratorially out of the side of his mouth, “Who’s your new fellow there?  I approve, wholeheartedly.  Yum!”

Said fellow looks like he’s trying to blend into the wall, but he is cute.  Louis thinks he gets major points for sticking around for a family emergency, even if he didn’t know it was possible for one person to look that uncomfortable.

“Not mine.  One of Harry’s state secrets,” she says, giving him a surprised look.  “One that I guess _none_ of us knew about, then.  I thought if anyone knew Harry had a boyfriend, it’d be you.”

Louis barely has time to throw her a surprised look before they’re there, and Anne’s wrapping him in a hug.  “Louis!  Welcome home.  How was Argentina?”

“Amazing,” Louis says, and then shakes his head.  “But Harry?  How is he?  What happened?  Gem said he was robbed?”

"They say he’s stable, but they won’t know more until he wakes up,” Robin explains. “It was kids, they took his bag, and then he fell or they pushed him off the platform, we don’t know – “

“He fell on the tracks?” Louis’s voice raises an octave, but he can’t help it.   “Well, it’s a good thing there wasn’t a train then.”

“But there was,” Anne interjects.  “If it weren’t for Liam here, well...  It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“Liam…” Louis tests the name out.  Harry’s boyfriend, Liam. “We haven’t met.”

“Oh! Right, you’ve been gone.”  Anne frowns for a moment.  “Liam, come and meet Louis, Harry’s flatmate – I’m sure Harry will have told you all about him?  Liam here saved Harry’s life, he pulled him off the tracks.”

Anne tears up a bit at the thought of what might have happened, and Louis slips an arm around her shoulders.  The boy, Liam, somehow manages to look even more uncomfortable at the praise, but he gets up and limps the few feet to shake Louis’s hand in greeting.  His grip is firm and warm, and his voice a deep tone coloured by a light Black Country accent.  “Of course, lovely to meet you.  Er, finally meet you, I mean.”

Louis tries to reconcile this guy with Harry’s usual type.  The guy is obviously quite fit, and appealing in a wholesome way.  But his jumper is threadbare and the plaid shirt he’s got on under it is buttoned tightly to his throat.  Not that Harry’s a snob or anything, but his taste generally runs to a more stylish, ironic hipster crowd.  And one that has been, as far as Louis knows, entirely female.

Not that Harry’s a homophobe, far from it, and god knows more than one person has thought he and Louis were dating.  Possibly because of their tendency to cuddle when drunk.  And when sober.  And sometimes when in the company of people that they _are_ actually dating.  He’s only been gone since the beginning of term, although he’s been pretty out of touch, what with the time difference and the cost of being online and the excitement of being away from home.  But still.  He can’t help but be a bit stung that Harry couldn’t be bothered to at least text him a quick “Hey, I’m gay!” amongst all the “Miss you”’s and “I broke your mug, sorry xxx”’s.  He would have budgeted some Skype time for that.

He doesn’t get farther than exchanging pleasantries with Liam though, because a nurse shows up and says that visiting hours have started back and one person can go back for ten minutes at a time.  Everyone insists on Louis going first, since he just arrived, and so he finds himself alone in an antiseptic, bland room, with his best mate in the world.  He pulls a chair closer, and sinks down in it, running both hands through his hair in frustration.  “Hazza, what the hell?  I turned my back for one minute, and you’re in a coma, with a boyfriend?  I thought you were still shagging that lecturer bird!  I mean, he’s fit and all, I get it, but.  I expected you to burn the flat down accidentally while I was away, not…”

He trails off, because he doesn’t know what else to say.  Harry hasn’t so much as twitched, and Louis doesn’t know what to do with that.  It’s one thing to hear ‘coma’ and another to see it, and he’s tired and hurt and scared and he wants to climb into bed and cuddle Harry but for the first time since he’s known him, he thinks that might be strange, so he takes Harry’s hand instead. Tears fill his eyes and he blinks rapidly to clear them.  “Ah, just wake up, won’t you?  Everyone’s here, we all want you to wake up so we can spoil you, and tease you about your cute boyfriend. Who I hope you really, really like, because I guess he saved your life, so I’m pretty sure your mum is going to adopt him.”

Louis spends the rest of his ten minutes chattering inanely about Argentina and the clubs there and the pretty Latin boys he scored with.  He’s just telling Harry about this time that he nearly got arrested in Buenos Aires with two of the boys from his internship programme due to a misunderstanding and exacerbated by Louis’s poor command of the Spanish language, when the nurse comes back with Gemma in tow to say his time’s up.

Gem peers in the room, and she has this hopeful look on her face that sort of just falls off when she sees Harry’s still asleep and Louis realises how much she was hoping he’d actually be able to pull off a miracle, or that somehow Harry wouldn’t be able to resist him.  He squeezes her shoulder as he passes by, and tries not to feel like shit.  It doesn’t really work, and he has to stop in the toilets to splash water on his face before he goes back out to the waiting area.

Liam is on his feet - again or still, Louis doesn’t know -  and he seems to be trying to leave.  Harry’s parents are arguing it, though, and as he walks up, Anne says, “But it’s so late for you to be on the buses and you said you have to work early, let us at least pay for a taxi for you.”

“Really, there’s no need.” Liam shakes his head as he’s shrugging into a coat that’s too snug in the shoulders, and Louis frowns.  “I’m fine, I take the bus all the time.”

“But you’ve hurt your foot, and it’s cold out.  You could take our car if you want, and bring it back tomorrow.”

“I don’t… I haven’t got a licence or insurance, I can’t drive.”  Liam’s eyes go big, and he looks like he wants to take a step back from the crazy people.  Louis thinks about telling him that Harry’s parents are just like that, that once they trust you, it’s completely and with everything they have.

This could go on for days, Louis thinks, and he takes pity on Liam, who doesn’t realize yet that he’s not going to win this battle.  There’s a reason people generally give Harry what he wants, and that reason is that he learned how to fight dirty from his mum.  “I’ll take him.  I’m dead on my feet, and anyway someone needs to check on Killer.”

A million hugs later, and promises to keep him updated the second anything changes, and Louis’s matching Liam’s shuffling, injured gait as they head out the doors of the hospital.  Liam starts to turn right, and Louis grabs his arm.  “Car park’s this way.”

“Really, I can take the bus.  I’m fine,” Liam just looks down at Louis’s hand on his jacket, and Louis thinks about letting go but decides not to.  Liam seems like the type to bolt.

“Anne would never forgive me.  Can you really live with that on your conscience forever?” Louis jokes, and Liam pales.  Louis frowns again, and tugs gently in the direction of the car park.  “No, really, I want to see you home.  It’s the least I can do, and it’s no trouble, and then no one has to worry about you.”

Liam bites at his lower lip, and looks vastly conflicted for a moment, so Louis turns on his best puppy dog eyes and says, “Please.”

 ~*~

Liam really can’t believe this is his life.  Really, this morning, he woke up and everything was normal and nothing pointed to the world going insane.  There really ought to be an omen for ‘you’re going to end up stuck in a car making awkward conversation with the best mate of your fake coma boyfriend.’

And, _dammit_ , now he’s got _Girlfriend in a Coma_ stuck in his head on repeat.

“So,” Louis starts again, and Liam tries not to flinch, thinking of the lies he’s going to need to make up.  “Did you come up here for uni?”

That’s safe enough, Liam thinks.  He’ll just keep the conversation off Harry, and then he won’t have to lie.  Which is good, because even he knows he’s really, really crap at it.  “Yeah, from Dudley.”

“What year are you?”

“Oh,” Liam shrugs.  “I should be second year, but I’m taking some time off.  Things got a bit tight, so…”

“Oh, right,” Louis nods as he makes a left turn, and his eyes don’t leave the road.  Liam hates how awkward this always is, trying to explain why he’s not at uni without _explaining_.  Louis just continues the conversation blithely. “I know how that goes, I’m the oldest of five.  If I hadn’t managed to get a bursary, they’d have had a rough time managing it all.  You got brothers or sisters?”

“Sisters.  Both older.  Ruth’s living down in London with her boyfriend, and Nicki’s still in Dudley.”

“Oh, _sisters_ , man.  I’m the only boy too,” Louis makes a face.  “Surrounded.”

Liam laughs, he can’t help it, and Louis flicks his eyes away from the road for a second, and smiles at him.  He has a really nice smile, Liam thinks, and it looks natural on him, like he should always be wearing a smile, not the pinched, tired worry that’s been on his face all night.

“So are you heading back to Dudley for Christmas?  Or do your parents come up here?”

Liam tries not to sigh, but the deep breath he takes instead is close enough to count.  He’s learned it’s better just to tell new people when it comes up, like ripping off a plaster, but he hates it.  He shoves his hands further under his arms, wrapping them tighter around himself like armor.  “No, uh.  They…” His throat tightens, and when is this going to get easier to say?  Never, probably.  “They died last year.”

The silence in the car lasts a beat too long, and Liam stares ahead at the road and is glad for the darkness.  They pull up to a light as it turns red, and Liam looks up when Louis puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes.  “Hey, I’m so sorry.”

He looks sincere, Liam thinks, and he shrugs. “It’s okay, mate.  Or, well, I mean it’s not _okay_ , but you know.”

“Yeah.” Louis trails off, checking to see if the light’s changed, then looks at Liam again. “What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Ferry accident,” Liam says, and he has to clear his throat before he can continue.  He looks out the window.  “They were in Greece, it was their anniversary.  They’d been planning it for ages.”

“That’s so sad,” Louis says quietly.  “That must have been so rough for you.  And then to almost lose Harry today as well…”

Liam nods, because maybe tomorrow, when Liam doesn’t come back to the hospital, when Harry wakes up and tells them he doesn’t have a boyfriend, maybe then Louis will remember this part and understand.  “I couldn’t just let him… I just had to make sure he was alright.”

“Of course, you did.” Louis reaches across the car and pulls him into a hug.

Liam wonders if that’s why Harry always seemed so cheery, that he has all these people who hug him all the time.  He waits for Louis to let go, but he doesn’t.  “Louis?  Louis.  The light’s turned.”

~*~

Liam makes his way out of the station the next afternoon, headphones on and blasting Kanye.  He’s tired from staying out so late, and grumpy from spending the day worrying about Harry, and hoping he’s okay and wondering if he could ring the hospital to find out but afraid that Harry’s family might be there and know by now that he’s a giant liar.  Deception is so exhausting, and he’s never doing this again.

At least he’d got Louis to drop him off last night around the corner from his flat, so if they try to call the police to report him, they don’t know where he lives.  It might buy him a day or two before he’s arrested for… impersonating a boyfriend?  Being creepy?  Whatever.

It’s turning colder, and he wraps his coat tighter.  The zip broke on it this morning, which really, par for the course this week.  Maybe he’ll see if Zayn from upstairs is home tonight; he could do with a night of Nintendo tournaments and pizza.  It’d take his mind off the rest of it.

He’s lost in his thoughts, and in the music, and he’s shut out the rest of the world.  Next thing he knows, someone is jumping on his back, and he doesn’t think, just reacts, and elbows his assailant in the ribs, hard.  The guy slides off his back and Liam whirls as he whips off his headphones, ready to defend himself.

Louis’s on the ground, two Starbucks cups held aloft and miraculously intact, cackling like a madman.

“Oh, god, are you alright?” Liam crouches down, reaching one hand toward Louis’s ribcage before stopping himself.  “Did I hurt you?”

“Yes, but that was _awesome_!” Louis grins, and Liam wants to ask if he knocked something loose in his brain on the way down, but under the circumstances, that would be inappropriate.  “You totally have to show me how to do that!”

“Um, okay,” Liam says cautiously.  “It’s not that hard.  But okay.  What are you doing here?”

“Well, I brought you coffee,” Louis explains.

He holds out one cup, and Liam looks at it.  It says ‘Harry’s BF’ written on it, and the other cup, presumably Louis’s, says ‘Harry’s BFF.’  It’s sweet, and it makes him feel equal parts warm and guilty.  He takes the cup, and then grabs Louis’s hand and helps him up.  “Cheers.”

“S’no problem.  Hey, so none of us got your mobile number last night, isn’t that crazy?  But never fear, Louis ‘The Tommo’ Tomlinson was on the case, and I totally stealthily tracked you down.  Okay, I got the nurse to tell me you worked here, and then I called down and asked when the morning shift got off, but that’s pretty good detective work, don’t you think?  My many years of watching Law & Order and Midsomer Murders have totally paid off, I could be a copper.”

“I don’t think policemen are supposed to talk that much,” Liam says, and he’s kind of dazed.  This Louis and last night’s Louis are like two different people.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“What? Yeah, of course!  Oh, yeah, I slept for like a jillion hours, I feel like a new man!” Louis takes a gulp of his coffee.  “Well, that and this is my second, no, wait, third Starbucks run of the day.”

Louis grins at him, clear and bright, and Liam can’t help but smile back.  Louis cracks on, because apparently he talks all the time.  “Walk with me, c’mon, the car’s this way.  So I just got a text from Anne, and she says that Harry’s doing better, but he’s still not up and about yet, and the nurses recommended that we take turns staying with him so that he can hear the voices of loved ones, telling him to stay away from any bright lights or whatnot-“

Louis stops suddenly and looks up at Liam, eyes wide.  “That was inappropriate, sorry.  I do that, I don’t know if Harry told you that, I make jokes when I’m uncomfortable, I don’t really mean that he’s going to die, he’s not, of course, or that death’s funny,  I just-“

“Hey, it’s okay.” Liam is genuinely worried that Louis might run out of oxygen.  “I get it, it’s no big deal.  Harry didn’t say-” Oh, Liam is an awful person.  Harry didn’t say, because Harry _didn’t know him_ , and seriously, he is never lying again if he can just get out of this situation, not even lies of omission.  “We hadn’t really got around to talking about… well, much.”

That, at least, is true.

There’s a pause, and Liam’s heart skips a beat, suddenly worried that he’s said the completely wrong thing, that he’s given himself away entirely.  Then Louis bursts into loud laughter.  “Oh, god.  Oh, that’s brilliant.  That’s my Hazza, alright.  I honestly didn’t think you were the type, but good on you, mate.”

It takes Liam a second, and then he realises that he just implied that he and Harry didn’t talk because they were too busy shagging their brains out and he flushes scarlet.  “I didn’t.  We weren’t.  That’s not what I meant!”

“Sure, sure.” Louis’s still laughing, eyes glittering.  He slings an arm around Liam’s shoulders and pulls him down the pavement.  “Keep sticking to that story.  Unless you want to tell me all the gory details.  And by gory, I mean sexual.”

Liam rolls his eyes and tries not to blush harder.  “Oh, shut it, Tomlinson.”

“You might as well, I’ll find out sooner or later, Harry always tells me everything eventually.” Louis sobers for a second.  “Or at least, when I’m in the country he does.  It’s weird that I don’t know you. I mean, that there’s someone that’s important to him that I don’t know.”

Louis frowns, and Liam tries to think of something to say that will make him stop but without lying more.  Louis shrugs it off though before he can think of anything, and stops by his car.  “Here we are then.  You’re coming to the hospital with me, right?  To chat up Harry?”

“I, uh.” Liam gropes desperately around his brain for an excuse, but he can’t think of anything.  Louis knows he doesn’t have lectures, or work, and anything else seems too trivial to use to get out of it. He grasps at straws and comes up with, “Surely the family doesn’t want me taking up their visiting time…”

“No, don’t think that.” Louis shakes his head, and he grabs Liam’s hand.  “They want you there, they really do.  You were… you were probably closest to him lately, what with him away from them at uni and me out of the country.  You’re welcome, truly.  Say you’ll come.”

“I-“

“Say it!” Louis sing-songs, and then before Liam can respond, does it again, only louder.  After the third time, people on the street start to stare at them.  By the time he can get out his acquiescence, he’s laughing too hard to get out much more than, ‘Yes,’ and Louis’s grinning again.  “Ace.”

He opens the door to the passenger side and gestures gallantly for Liam to get in.  Then he reaches into Liam’s open coat and pinches his nipple.  Liam’s pretty sure his eyebrows and his hairline have meshed, and he just boggles at Louis.  “What was that for?”

“All part of the Tomlinson Experience.” Louis winks at him.  “If you’re gonna data Harry, you have to get used to me.  Before you know it, you won’t even bat an eye when I jump on you.”

Liam can’t help but laugh as he slides down into the car seat.  “Maybe next time don’t jump on me with two cups of hot coffee.  Or just, you know, don’t jump on me.”

“Now what’d be the fun in that?” Louis grins as he shuts the door.

~*~

The drive to the hospital goes pretty quickly, because Louis has never met a silence he couldn’t fill, and Liam is shaping up to be a fantastic audience.  He laughs at all Louis’s jokes, and he’s got a great smile, which in their short acquaintance Louis thinks he doesn’t use enough.  Hopefully after all this hospital business is settled and Harry’s back with them, Louis can make sure Harry looks into that.  Liam goes all stuttery and flustered whenever Louis brings up anything to do with shagging Harry, but he doesn’t tell Louis to fuck off, which means he’s probably a pretty good sport.

Louis can’t imagine Harry being with anyone who isn’t super comfortable with their own body.  Louis had thought he was the most shameless person in the world ‘til he met Harry; Harry’ll get his kit off any time, any place, and never think twice of it.  Maybe Liam is just one of those people who are all shy, and then you get them in the sack and, vrooooom, hello tiger!

And wow, that’s not an avenue of thought he should be going down -  what his best mate’s boyfriend is like in bed.  Luckily they’re at the hospital by then, and he pushes it from his mind as he parks the car.  They’ve only just got into the waiting room and said hello to Robin and Gemma before Anne’s coming out from her turn to visit.  “Liam, darling!  Louis found you!”

“I wasn’t hiding.” Liam goes wide eyed at the hug Anne gives him, but he hugs her back.  “I was just at work.”

“At work?” Gemma crosses her arms, hugging herself as she folds into her seat, frowning up at him.  “How could you even go back to that place?  Harry almost _died_ there.”

Liam pales, and Louis reaches out instinctively, puts an arm around his shoulders.  He can feel a tremor go through Liam, and he squeezes as he frowns at Gemma.  Liam’s voice is shaking a bit. “I have to, it’s my job, I need-”

Gemma interrupts, and Louis’s never seen her be so angry.  “If you cared about him at all, you would have been here.  You would have stayed all night, if you really love-”

“Gemma Anne Styles.” Anne’s voice is quelling.  “That is enough, young lady.  If Liam has to work, he has to work.  If it weren’t for him...” Her voice falters, but she carries on.  “Liam, I’m sorry, we’ve been here all day, she’s overtired.”

“I am NOT.” Gemma flushes red and hops to her feet.  “We don’t even know this boy, we don’t know anything about him.  Harry never said anything, he would have told me.”

She rounds on Liam, and Louis nearly steps between them to protect him.  “Prove it.  If you were really with him, you should be able to prove it.”

They all just sort of stand there in shock, like Gemma’s words are ringing around them, and Louis doesn’t know what to do.  He clears his throat, “Gem, that’s not fair-”

“He has teats,” Liam blurts out.  Every head in the room swivels to look at him, and he stammers, “Extra ones, I mean.”

They all stand there silently for a second, and then Louis can’t help it.  He starts to giggle, quietly at first, but then he can’t hold back and he sets off Anne and before you know it, they’re all laughing hysterically. It’s possible that none of them have got enough sleep, even Louis, and he’s got tears streaming from his eyes by the time he actually manages to speak.

“T-t-teats,” Louis manages to gasp out, and Robin falls off his chair.  “Oh my god, we have to call them that from here on out, there’s no question.”

“Completely,” Anne agrees.  “I may have to get a t-shirt made.”

“Oh, god, remember that one you made when he kept bunking off in sixth-form?  ‘I potty-trained Harry Styles; ask me how!’  Priceless!” Robin grins up at his wife.

“I only wore it to his school once,” Anne explains to a mostly-baffled but now smiling Liam in an ‘I’m not a monster’ tone.  “I might have threatened to show up in it every day that he didn’t, though.”

“My wife believes in parenting through humiliation,” Robin explains.  “It’s surprisingly effective.”

“And explains so, so much about Harry and how he is now shame-impaired,” Louis adds.

“Pot, kettle, black,” Liam says quietly, and Louis laughs again and claps one arm around him.

~*~

Liam stays behind when they go off for dinner.  They’d wanted him to come along, but he reasoned with them that this way Harry won’t be alone for so long, that he could sit with Harry ‘til visiting hours are over.  Anne had smiled at him like he was _so thoughtful_ , and it made him want to cringe because really, he just wants to be gone before they come back.

After an hour or so of babbling about his day to a comatose Harry, visiting hours end, and Liam heads out and down the hall.  Liam’s waiting for the lift when he hears his name being called down the corridor.  Caught, he thinks, and he steels himself for another round of ‘Tell Us About Harry’ from Harry’s family but it’s just the nurse.

“Hey, where did all the family go?” She’s breathless by the time she gets to him, and she’s holding out a clear plastic bag filled with clothes.  “I’m supposed to give them this, it’s all Harry’s things.  His mum signed for it to take home but walked away without it.”

“They all went to dinner, they should be back soon, maybe half an hour?” Liam reckons, then shakes his head.  “What was all that yesterday? Why didn’t you just tell them the truth?  Now they think I’m their son’s boyfriend.”

“I had to,” she hisses back at him, low, throwing a quick look over her shoulder.  “That jerk doctor is just looking for a reason to be rid of me, and I was just trying to help you out.  I can’t lose this job, I’ve got three kids depending on me.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you _lied_ ,” Liam nearly shouts, but keeps his temper in check.

“You lied too,” she returns, her own temper clearly rising.  “You could have told them at any point what really happened.  Look, we’re in this together now, just ride it out.  All's well that ends well, and all that.”

“You don’t know that this will end well,” Liam sighs miserably.  “In fact, it’s nearly guaranteed not to.  I can’t pull this off, they’re going to find out.”

“Listen, just take his kit and get it to his mum.  My shift ends soon.” She pushes the bag at him, and he takes it out of reflex.  “I’ll make sure the night nurse tells them you got called away, and well.  Maybe tomorrow he’ll wake up and they’ll be so happy that their son is back they won’t care about anything else.  You’re still the bloke that pulled him off the tracks, they can’t get too mad at you.”

~*~

Harry doesn’t wake up tomorrow.

Liam knows this because Louis has taken to texting him with updates, things like ‘Gem & I takin turns tickling him, u no how he hates that’ and ‘threatened him with felt-tip dicks on his face, clearly has no shame, didn’t so much as stir.’  It makes Liam laugh out loud, and then feel like a crazy person because he’s alone in his booth.

They want him to come back, Louis tells him via text, but he begs off with an excuse of a promise to a friend and an early shift the next day.  It makes him feel like he’s being a bad boyfriend, but then he reminds himself that he is _ridiculous_ and not actually anyone’s boyfriend.

He drowns his sorrows with pizza and full-fat fizzy drinks at Zayn’s.  Liam’s known Zayn for ages now, since before... since back when Liam’s life was normal.  He lives two floors up, had helped Liam find his flat, such as it is, when it became clear that there was no more money for university housing.  Zayn’s mate Niall is over, because he has a sixth sense for showing up where the food is, and by the time they’re an hour into an epic FIFA bout, Liam’s nearly been able to forget the mess he’s made of his life in the last 48 hours.  Nearly.

The third time Liam’s phone goes off, Zayn looks sideways at him.  “Gonna get that, mate?”

Liam just presses the buttons on his controller harder, and stares at the tv screen.  “No, I... it’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Niall repeats, coming back into the room with two cold beers.  He hands one to Zayn, and offers one to Liam, just to be polite even though he knows Liam doesn’t drink much.  But he doesn’t make a fuss when Liam turns it down, because Niall’s ace like that.  “Have you had an official Facebook status change that we don’t know about?”

Liam snorts, because that’s too close to the truth to not be just a little funny.  Then he starts laughing.  Then he kind of can’t stop.  He thinks he may be cracking under the strain.

By the time he gets himself back under control, Zayn has the game paused, and both of them are sat there staring at Liam.  Zayn reaches one hand out toward him cautiously. “Y’alright, mate?”

Liam waves him off weakly, nodding.  “It’s just been... a long week.”

“Here, I think you need this more than me.” Niall hands over his beer after all, and Liam takes it this time.  It tastes bitter and as awful as he remembers, but it’s something to do, he supposes.

Before he knows what’s happened, he’s drained the beer, and told them the whole sob story, complete with train-saving heroics, and accidental boyfriending, and... “And then his mum, she keeps hugging me, and I don’t know what to do!  They asked me so, so many questions, and I don’t know the answers, because it’s not like Harry and I had deep, meaningful conversations while I was selling him tickets.”

He buries his face in his hands, and groans, “I am so, so... fucked.”

“That’s messed up, mate.  And if you come clean, this nurse chick gets sacked?” Zayn frowns.  “Would you get in trouble too?”

“I don’t even know, I don’t know.”  Liam sighs, and slumps back against the couch.  He doesn’t normally drink, doesn’t like it, but he can feel the beer building a buffer between him and the horror of reality and it’s kind of nice.

His phone starts buzzing against the coffee table, and Zayn chucks it at him. Zayn’s such a good friend, he thinks, such a nice boy, his mum would have said. He answers it, and before he can even get it up to his ear he hears, “Liam?  Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiam.”

“Hey, Louis.” He’s smiling, he can’t help it.  It sounds like Louis’s calling from a pub; there’s a lot of background noise.  “You alright?”

“Yeah, mate, I was just thinking about you.”  There’s a pause.  “About you and Harry, I mean.  And about today.  I just wanted to tell you that Gem was outta line, she didn’t mean to be stroppy with you.”

“No, it’s fine,” Liam sighs.  “She was tired, worried, I get it.  It’s no big deal.”

“She really does feel bad about it, she’s just... hurt.” Louis’s voice is quieter than normal, and Liam has to press his ear close to hear him.  “Her and Harry, well, you know.  They’re close, and I think she wants to be cross with him for not telling her, but she can’t, obviously, not when he’s...”

Liam swallows hard.  Sometimes, in all the mess he’s made of this, he forgets that Harry’s really hurt.  “I’m easier.”

“Exactly, but she’s not really angry… I think she just needed to explode for a moment, and let it all out.  Anne made her go to the hotel tonight, to get some rest.”

“That’s good.” Liam clears his throat.  “You all should.  Get rest, I mean. Are you out?  Are you not still jet-lagged?”

“Yeah, no, I mean I am, but no.  The flat’s too... quiet.  I needed to get out and let off some steam.  I’m out with some mates from uni, you should come out.”

Liam’s actually tempted for a moment, because talking with Louis is so easy.  But then Louis says, “Come on, they’re Harry’s mates too, and they all want to meet you.”

And, yeah, no.  Liam sighs.  “Nah, I really can’t, I’ve got to help my mate with...”

Did he mention he was shit at lying?  Zayn and Niall both try to help him out; Zayn starts miming something which, close as Liam can tell, translates to ‘Gorillas Dancing’ which while amusing isn’t really that helpful.  Niall just rolls his eyes and shouts, “OI, LIAM!  Give us a hand, mate!” really close to the phone.

“Er, gotta go!” Liam jumps on the excuse and hangs up the phone before he can even hear all of Louis’s response.  He collapses back against the sofa and buries his face in his hands.  “This is never going to work.  I’m going to get caught.  Louis wanted me to come to a pub and meet all Harry’s mates - can you imagine?”

“Wait a minute,” Zayn says, and his eyes light up in a way that Liam absolutely does not trust.  “Your biggest problem is not knowing anything about this Harry’s life, right?”

“Yeah,” Liam admits reluctantly.  “Why?”

“Well, you said that nurse gave you all his stuff, yeah?  Like his clothes and his wallet and whatnot?”  Zayn waits ‘til Liam nods.  “And his _keys_?”

“Yeah, all that stuff.” Liam nods again, not seeing what Zayn’s on about.  He blames the beer; it’s making his head buzz.

“His keys, that’s brill,” Niall laughs, and Liam’s still not getting it.  Niall takes pity on him.  “You have his keys, his flatmate’s out for hours.  Get it?”

And then next thing Liam knows, they’re stood in front of the door to Harry and Louis’s flat and he’s clutching the bag of Harry’s belongings in one hand and the keys to the flat in the other.

“This is breaking and entering.” Liam stops, with the key halfway to the door.  “You guys, this is illegal, we shouldn't be doing this.”

“It’s not breaking and entering if you’ve got a key,” Zayn reasons, snatching the key out of Liam’s hand and unlocking the door.  “It’s just entering.  No law against entering, now is there?”

He swings the door open and Liam holds his breath, waiting for an alarm to go off or someone to jump out and arrest them all.  Didn’t Louis say something about a dog?  Chomper or something like that?  It’s possible that they’re all about to die.

But the flat is quiet and dark, and Zayn and Niall go in.  Liam just stands there for another second, staring, until Zayn reaches back out and pulls him in.  “Get in here, you prat!”

And then he’s inside Harry’s flat.

It’s spacious, and he’s pretty sure his entire flat would fit in the lounge with room to spare, and it’s so, so messy that he actually itches to tidy it up.  Someone’s luggage (Louis’s, at a guess) has exploded clothes and sundry items across the sofa and chair, and the kitchen sink has dishes stacked high in a Jenga tower of doom, just waiting for one wrong piece to be moved so the whole lot can come crashing down.

“Your fake boyfriend is a total slob,” Zayn says, then he laughs at the face Liam’s making.  “See?  The things you’re learning already.  Who says crime doesn’t pay?”

Liam moves cautiously into the living area, skirting around the mountain of clothes and heading for the entertainment centre against the far wall.  There’s a Wii and a Playstation, and a number of game cases strewn about.  One shelf is stacked end-to-end with vinyl records, and Liam tilts his head to read the titles:  Bon Iver, Paper Aeroplanes, Fleet Foxes, The Stone Roses, and a host of artists Liam’s never heard of before.

On the shelf below that is an entire collection of Avengers toys from McDonalds set up to do epic battle against Spider-man, Batman, and Spongebob Squarepants.  Someone’s given Spongebob a tiny spear, and Liam appreciates that the odds have been evened.

“One of them has old black and white movie posters,” Niall reports from down the hallway.  “And the other one has-” He breaks off, laughing.  “A blow up doll with all the fun body parts labeled with Spanish slang.”

His head pops back around the corner and he grins at Liam.  “It’s a boy doll.  And those are not things you say to a mate.  That’s good news, yeah?”

“That’d be Louis’s, I’d reckon.  He just got back from South America.”  Liam shrugs.  He’d kind of thought with Louis, but you never know and he hadn’t wanted to assume.

“Well, at least you know he’s not a homophobic arsehole, if his flatmate’s gay,” Zayn reasons from the kitchen.  He’s fiddling with the papers tacked to the fridge, and he shoves one aside, then whistles.  “Phwoar! Okay, I get it now, this dude is totally fit.  You could power the city with that smile.”  

“You need to call Perrie and tell her something, mate?” Niall says dryly.  “It’s only polite to tell your girlfriend if you’re switching teams.”

“You look and tell me if I’m wrong, then.”  Zayn stands back and gestures for Niall to take his place.

Niall comes over, with Liam two steps behind, and says, “Yeah, alright, fair play,” just as Liam gets out, “That’s not Harry.  That’s Louis.”

It is a good picture though - Louis’s holding a drunken and doubled-up Harry up by the waist and laughing into the camera.  His fringe is even more windswept than he wears it now, his cheeks are flushed an attractive shade of pink, and his lips are red and shiny like he’d been drinking or snogging someone or maybe both.  It looks like an advert for Topman or Abercrombie.  But then a lot of the other pictures on the fridge do as well.  He taps one a little higher up, held on with naughty poetry magnets.  “That’s Harry.”

“Oh.”  Niall and Zayn say it at the same time, and Zayn follows it up with a diplomatic, “Very fit also.”

And Liam feels the need to defend Harry, because really, Harry’s lovely and sexy as well, but before he can get the words out, a key turns in the lock and they all freeze, staring at each other in horror.

~*~

Going out had clearly been a poor plan, Louis thinks as he unlocks his front door.  Everyone had had good intentions, but no one knew what to say or do and the whole evening had just been a hundred shades of awkward and too many alcopops.  It had culminated with Harry’s friend Molly accidentally referring to Harry in the past tense, like he’d died, and then bursting into tears and barricading herself in the ladies’.

Really, the only bright point of the evening had been the five minutes he’d spent on the phone talking to Liam.  It’s weird, because they just met, but there’s something about Liam that Louis finds just so calming, so steady.  Louis can’t believe that just over a day ago, he was thinking that Liam wasn’t Harry’s type but now he totally gets it and –

Did he really leave all these lights on when he went out?

“Er, don’t panic-,” a deep voice says from the left, and Louis maybe, just maybe, jumps a foot in the air and shrieks at a decibel that would do a thirteen-year-old girl proud.

“I said _don’t_ panic.”

Liam’s stood in his kitchen, behind the counter.  Louis shakes his head once, trying to make sure it’s not a hallucination.  He’s not even drunk, so it can’t be, right?  Just because he was thinking about Liam doesn’t mean he somehow conjured him into his kitchen, that’s silly.  Louis puts one hand on his heart, trying to get his breath back.  “Thanks, that was helpful advice, Liam.”

“Sorry.” Liam looks sheepish.

Louis’s heart rate is returning to somewhere near normal, and his brain kicks in.  “What are you doing here anyway?  How did you get in?”

“Uh.” Liam looks a little panicked for a second, eyes flickering to the ground.  There’s a sound, like plastic crinkling, and he flinches.  He sets a clear plastic bag on the work surface and explains, “The nurse, she made me take Harry’s things yesterday, and it felt.  I don’t know, it felt weird that I had them but I didn’t want Anne to have to deal with it.  So I brought them over, which now seems weirder, I’m sorry.”

“No worries.” Louis shrugs.  It’s not the weirdest thing someone’s done around him tonight; he thinks maybe they’re all starting to crack under the pressure.

He starts to walk toward Liam, who pales and looks down again, eyes flicking left and right, then says, “No, wait, stay there.”

And then he fucking vaults himself over the counter, which is both impressive to do from a standing position and really fucking _bizarre_ , but ok. Whatever.

Liam stands there for a moment, tucking his thumbs into his jean pockets.  “Uh, so…”

Louis knows he’s staring at Liam, but really.  He’s earned some staring.  “Do you need a beer, mate?”

“Er, no.  I don’t really drink… and anyway I had one earlier, and I really don’t think it helped.” Liam frowns, and Louis thinks _oh_.  Maybe this is Liam tipsy?  He watches as Liam casts a desperate-looking gaze around the room before latching on to the record player.  “So I was thinking, I read somewhere that music can be like, therapy or something?  For ill people, I mean, so I thought maybe I’d make a playlist for Harry, but we kind of don’t have the same taste in music so I thought maybe you could tell me which of these - ”

He breaks off, grabbing Louis by the sleeve and practically dragging him over to the stack of records before continuing at a louder volume – “Which of these records over here by the wall on the other side of the room are his favourites.”

If this is Liam drunk, Louis thinks he should make a mental note not to let that happen again.  Or at least, not without a video camera so that he can put it on YouTube and mock him about it when he sobers up.  Louis’s so busy thinking about how funny that would be, and imagining himself and Harry poking fun while Liam blushes, that he totally misses Liam’s quick look over his shoulder.

Which is too bad, because really, anyone would have got a laugh out of watching two grown men crawl to the door on their stomachs like they were in a Hollywood war film and the room was strung with barbed wire.

“He was playing this one on a loop before I left.”  Louis taps the edge of one record.  “But I’m not sure it’d be good for a coma patient, it was dead depressing.  Hey!  Maybe you should make him a mix of the sugariest, poppiest pop ever – annoy the shit out of him so he has to wake up!”

Liam laughs, but then his eyes slide right ever so, and Louis starts to turn to see what he’s looking at and then Liam puts a hand on his shoulder, looks him in the eye, and starts singing _Hit Me Baby, One More Time._

And, fuck, but Liam can sing, and Louis’s maybe staring at him _again_ but Liam’s hand is warm and big on his shoulder and Liam’s voice is deep and sure and Liam’s maybe one hundred percent Louis’s type.  Which, he never would’ve thought he and Harry would go for the same kind of bloke.  Then again, he never would’ve thought Harry went for blokes at all, so what does he know?  And this is maybe the third time he’s had inappropriate thoughts about his best mate’s boyfriend and he’s really got to quit that.  At least this time, he can blame alcohol.  “Jesus, mate.  Forget the mix, just bloody serenade him.”

Liam scratches at the back of his neck and manages to look sheepish and relieved at the same time, and it’s adorable.  Louis’s totally giving up drinking for the foreseeable future.  “Tried that already, to be honest.  Apparently Harry doesn’t think I’ve got the X-Factor.”

“Well, it’s a Yes from me, mate.” Louis can’t help but wink, and Liam blushes, and ugh, what is his life?  _Stop flirting in three, two, one, Louis_.

They’re just stood there, kind of staring at each other and smiling awkwardly, and Louis doesn’t know what to do with this sudden tension that’s there.  There’s a tiny, mewling cry from the corner, and Liam jerks in surprise.  Louis will take whatever diversion he can get though, and he leans down and scoops up the fluffy white kitten up to his chest.  “Hey there, Killer.  Did you come out to see what all the noise is about?  Did you come to say hello to Liam?”

He takes one tiny paw in his hand and waves it at Liam, who is a total dork and waves back.  He pushes the cat in Liam’s direction.  “Come and say hello properly.  Killer Queen demands love and strokes from all her loyal subjects.”

“I can’t, I... er, I’m allergic.” Liam frowns, and actually takes a step back.  “Sorry, she’s lovely, but...”

“No, no worries.” Louis tucks her back against his chest, trying not to wince when she sinks sharp claws through the fabric into his skin.  “She’s Harry’s baby - that must be tough for you to be allergic.”

“Yeah, that’s.  I don’t come here. Usually, I mean.” Liam has a wild look in his eyes again, and Louis’s not sure what’s put it there but he doesn’t like it.  Liam shakes himself, and starts backing away toward the door.  “I should go, it’s getting late.”

“No, don’t!  I can put her in the bathroom, you can stay a bit-”

“No really, don’t, it’s her house, she shouldn’t be locked up, I’ve got work in the morning, I’ll see you around, goodnight!”

And he’s out the door before Louis can really lodge another protest, leaving him standing there holding a purring cat with a frown on his face.

~*~

Liam’s shaking after he leaves the flat.  Away from Louis and his warm, crinkly-eyed smile, it’s easier to freak out about how they almost got caught and it takes Niall and Zayn nearly an hour to calm him down.  All the while, he’s swearing again and again that he can’t do this anymore, that he’s going to confess tomorrow and maybe move to Antarctica.

Where there is no cat dander or boys with laughing blue eyes or families that are nice to him.

Niall and Zayn can’t stop laughing.  Niall and Zayn are not helpful, and Liam doesn’t know why he’s friends with them.

“Mate, at least you got to know more about Harry!” Niall laughs around the mouthful of food he’s just shoveled in.  They’ve stopped in for ‘celebratory kebabs’ although Liam’s not sure they’ve managed anything worth celebrating.

“S’right, now you know you’re fake-dating a dirty hipster with a cat.  That’s three more things than you knew this morning,” Zayn adds smugly.  “And he’s got a hot flatmate.  Oh wait, you already knew that.”

“Ugh,” Liam thunks his head down on to the table, then sits back up as he realises that it’s really probably not that clean.  “You are not helpful and I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

Liam goes home, and out of guilt he goes ahead and makes a playlist for Harry because, if he’s going to be someone’s fake coma boyfriend, he might as well be good at it.  He tries to pick the most hipster-y tracks out of his collection, but he feels like Harry might not think it was very good.  Still, he puts it on his ipod, and takes it with him as he leaves two hours early to stop by the hospital to see Harry before work.

It’s quiet in the hallways, the early morning hush hasn’t worn off, and Liam can hear the squeak of his trainers on the linoleum floor as he makes his way back to Harry’s room.  He’s the only one there, given that it’s only half five, but the nurses at the station wave him back without question and he tries not to feel guilty about it, tries to pretend that it’s just like being another mate of Harry’s come for a visit. 

Harry’s still in the same shape as that first day, a prone figure surrounded by wires and monitors, but now he has a tattered baby blanket tucked around him that Liam knows his mum brought him home from the hospital in when he was born, and there’s flowers in a little squat vase on the tray table by his bed surrounded by cards from various friends and family.  Liam sinks down in the chair next to him and sighs.  “Hi Harry.  It’s me Liam again.  I don’t know if you’ll remember any of this when you wake up, but I just want to say I’m sorry.  I never meant for any of this to happen, I just wanted to check on you and then it snowballed from there, and I...”

He trails off, because really, what can he say?  ‘I never meant to lie my way into your life?’  It wouldn’t make sense, and Harry doesn’t know about most of what’s happened anyway, and it makes Liam tired to think about it.  He shrugs.  “Well, anyway, I thought you might be tired of being cooped up in here with no music because that would drive me mad - I always have mine on - so I made you this.”

He loops one of the earbuds into Harry’s ear and sticks the other one in his own, and presses play on the list.  “Now this one, this one I thought you’d like because it’s about cats with moustaches and well, you have a cat...”

And so it plays away and Liam gives some commentary on some of the songs, and some of them he doesn’t, just listening and hoping that somehow Harry’s listening too because all of this craziness aside, he seems a decent bloke and Liam really does wish he’d wake up. 

“... and okay, this is Crazy in Love _but_ hear me out - it’s a Snow Patrol cover, NOT the Beyoncé version even though Louis tried to convince me that I should only put on songs you’d hate so you’d wake up and tell us all off-”

There’s a soft snort of laughter from the doorway, and Liam jerks his head in surprise which makes the earbud fall out.  Gemma’s leaning against the doorway, and she’s got a soft smile on her face which Liam’s not used to seeing.  She arches one eyebrow as she pushes off from the doorframe.  “Don’t let him fool you - he may have his hipster persona down now but he used to sing Spice Girls songs into my hairbrush when he was little.”

Liam smiles as he swivels in his chair to face her.  “Well, who amongst us hasn’t done that?”

She laughs, and perches herself on the foot of Harry’s bed.  “Indeed.  So...”  She pokes her brother in the leg, and sighs when there’s no response.  “No change then?”

Liam wishes he could give her good news, but he can’t, so he just shakes his head and looks down, studying the edge of the bed frame with far more interest than it deserves.  They sit there in silence for a long moment, and Liam starts to think up excuses to leave, but Gemma breaks in before he can.

“So I was completely horrid to you the other day.”

“No!” Liam startles and looks up at her.  “No, you weren’t, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” Gemma looks determined, and when she frowns, he can see her resemblance to Harry.  “I was cruel to you, and I didn’t mean it.  I know you care; I mean look at you, you’re here now, aren’t you?  And the music-”

“It’s just something I put together last night, I read this article-”

“It’s something you did for him, and it’s sweet, and I... I was just surprised, is all.  I didn’t know about,” She waves her hand to encompass the two of them.  “About you.  It made me feel like I didn’t know my brother and I didn’t like it and I took it out on you and I’m sorry for it.  I hope you can forgive me and we can be friends and maybe one day if Harry- _when_ Harry-”

And she breaks off, her voice choked, her eyes filling with tears and Liam jumps to his feet and moves toward her.

“Hey.” Liam doesn’t know how to do this, not really, but she looks so sad it breaks his heart.  “Hey, Gemma.  Don’t - he’s going to wake up.  He is.”

She nods, trying to smile through her tears, and she says, “I know, I know, it’s just hard,” as she wraps her arms around him and holds on tight.  Liam doesn’t know what to do, so he just hugs her back and lets her cry on him and prays that he’s right.

~*~

The morning rush subsides, and Liam’s left watching the stragglers, the mums with their kids, the odd businessman heading for a meeting.  It’s dull, and he wishes for the millionth time that he could bring his guitar in with him.  Instead, he works on the setlist for the weekly open mic night coming up at MacLaren's Pub and tries to go over the chord changes in his head.  Niall keeps trying to convince him to do one of his own songs, not just covers, but he doesn’t know if they’re ready, if they’re good enough...

The tap on the window takes him by surprise, and he jerks his head up, trying to pull his head out of the music and back into work mode.  But it’s just Harry’s mum, smiling at him brightly and holding up a tray of drinks and a bag from Starbucks.  Her voice is muffled by the glass, but still cheery.  “I brought you a snack!”

He looks up at the clock on the wall, just to check the timetable - no trains due for a while, so he puts out the sign that says he’s on his break and meets Anne outside the booth.  She hands him the tray as he points out a bench not far away.  She’s brought gingerbread lattes and mince pies, and the motherly way she fusses over him ‘til he’s all set up with his snacks and a serviette has a lump burning in his throat that he has to work past to ask, “What brings you down here?  I mean, it’s a lovely surprise, thank you.”

“I wanted to come and check on you.” Anne smiles warmly at him.  “I know it’s such a stressful time for us all, but you... Louis said you’d lost your parents recently?”

“Um, yeah.  Last year.”  Liam looks away.  He really doesn’t want to talk about this, but he doesn’t know how to change the subject without being awkward.  Anne reaches out and takes his hand though, and he looks back at her. 

“I am so sorry for your loss, love,” she says as she squeezes his hand.  “I know it must make this time of year difficult for you, and now with Harry in hospital... Well, I just wanted to make sure that you knew you weren’t alone, that you’ve got us now.”

Liam can feel his eyes start to tear up, to his complete horror, and he looks down at his cup.  It doesn’t say anything cutesy, like the one Louis got him, just ‘Liam’ in block letters and he tries to focus on the lettering and not the swirling in his stomach.  “That’s very kind of you, but -”

“Nonsense.” She cuts him off, waving off his objections.  “Are you going to your sisters for Christmas? Because if not, you absolutely must spend it with us.  I insist.”

“No, I- my sisters have other plans, but really, I don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s not an intrusion, not in the least. It’s completely settled, you’ll come to dinner with us on Christmas Eve - I don’t know where we’ll go, but we’ll find some place nice here, or if Harry’s better by then maybe we can do it at home and you can come and stay the night.”

If Harry’s better by then, that’s the last thing that will happen, Liam thinks.  But it feels so nice to feel wanted somewhere, he finds himself nodding along with her plans.

It just keeps happening.  Anne or Robin popping by to drop off a sandwich to him while he’s at work.  Gemma texting him about pop songs and the dismal dinner selections at the hospital caf.  Louis texting him odd pictures of Harry with doodled mustaches drawn on.  Mostly on the pictures through an app, but notably once actually on Harry, with marker that turned out to be a little more indelible than Louis had apparently thought.  They put him on their rota, taking turns sitting with Harry. 

And it’s so easy to fall into it.  Into having people that care about him all the time.  Into having obligations to people.  Liam almost forgets to even feel bad about it, except for moments late at night when he’s in bed alone.  So far, he’s dealing with it by rolling over and going to sleep.

Then he takes the stage on open mic night and hears a familiar shout, and sure enough, there’s Louis sat with Gemma at a table right up front.  They’re both cheering like he’s won a competition, and it’s so silly and funny that he can’t help laughing as he launches into the first song.  Louis opens an app on his mobile that looks like it’s a real cigarette lighter and waves it in the air all through his set, and Gemma sways along with him.  When he walks off the stage, Jimmy the sound guy smirks at him and says, “Think you’ve got some fans there, mate.”

“Oh, my god, you were so brilliant!” Louis crows as Liam approaches their table, and he ducks his head at the praise with a shy smile and hugs Gemma hello. 

“You really were,” she adds as she returns the hug.  “Louis said you were good, but I had no idea!”

“That’s what you get for doubting me, babe,” Louis says with a nod, like he’s settled his supreme authority on all things.   “Also, quit hogging the Liam-hugs, it’s my turn.”

Louis’s wrapped around him, all warm and surprisingly strong, compact muscle even though he’s half a head shorter.  He smells like cinnamon and beer, and he whispers, “Truly, you were amazing, mate,” in Liam’s ear before he lets go.

“Thanks, you guys didn’t have to come out.” Liam rubs one hand across the nape of his neck self-consciously.  “I mean, I’m glad you did, I just-“

“Oi, superstar!”

Liam turns just in time to get an armful of Niall, squealing like a fourteen year old girl, batting his eyelashes as he simpers, “Oh my god, Liam Payne, you’re so fit, can I have your autograph?”

“Oh, shut up, you twat.” Liam shoves him off onto Zayn, who just catches him with a grin that says he probably dared Niall to do it in the first place.  Liam’s life is hard.  He sighs. “These idiots are my mates.  I apologise in advance.  Zayn, Niall, this is Louis and Gemma.”

“Oh, Harry’s-” Niall starts and then cuts himself off, eyes going wide like he’s said the worst possible thing.  He stammers, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up- I mean, I’m sorry about your brother.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and says, “Right then.  Let’s get some drinks in, shall we?” and Liam’s never agreed to have alcohol so quickly in his whole life.

~*~

It’s cold out when they step out of the pub, but Louis doesn’t quite feel it.  He’s at that perfect stage of drunk, where everything’s easy and fluid and fun, and it helps to stave off the chill.  He shoves his hands in his pockets and laughs as Niall nearly walks backwards into a bin while talking to Gemma.  Zayn reaches out at the last second and grabs him out of harm’s way, and Niall’s already drink-flushed cheeks redden a bit more, but he laughs good-naturedly and keeps telling his story.

Gemma seems to be trying not to be charmed by it, and failing.  Liam knocks his shoulder into Louis’s, and grins at him as he rolls his eyes in Niall’s direction.  They’ve been snickering about it for hours now, watching Niall trying to flirt with Gemma and getting knocked back.  Liam’s eyes are bright, and his smile bunches up his cheeks like a little kid, and he’s kind of adorable.

Zayn clears his throat, and Louis jerks his head up, away from Liam.  They’ve come to the corner by the bus stop and Zayn’s looking at him like he’s missed something.  “Sorry, mate, what was that?”

“I said, Gemma says she’s going back to the hospital but you don’t have to – me and Niall are headed that way, his flat’s in that direction.  We can ride with her.”

“Oh, okay.”  He looks at Liam, and smiles.  “I guess that leaves us then.  Best to walk together, wouldn’t want anything to happen to such a pretty, defenseless young man walking alone in the big city at night. It’s a crime drama plot waiting to happen.”

“Hey, now,” Liam protests, his brows furrowing as he crosses his arms over the strap holding his guitar case slung across his back and Louis isn’t sure if he means to make the muscles in his arms stand out like that, but whoa.  “I can take care of myself.”

“I know, I meant me.” Louis grins, and everyone laughs.  “Don’t leave me out here alone, mate, I’m scared.”

Liam laughs too, and Louis tries not to think too much about the warmth that floods his insides when that happens.  He turns his attention back to the group, and they all start saying their goodbyes.  Zayn has a considering look on his face, but in the end, he just nods at them and says goodnight.

They stand there in silence for a moment, waiting for their friends to disappear inside the station before turning to start off on their way.  The noise of the high street fades, the shouts of drunken students beginning to muffle as they walk down the pavement.  Liam is quiet by his side, guitar making a soft thunking noise on the downbeat as it bumps against his back.  He’s shortened his stride to match Louis’s without comment.  Louis makes it nearly two streets before he starts talking, which might actually be a record for him.  “So you really were amazing tonight.  Have you been playing long?”

“Yeah, since I was about twelve, I guess.”  Liam shrugs, then stuffs his hands deeper into his pockets and adds, “My mum played, and I used to sing with her, like folk music and the like.  Then she started teaching me and I liked it, so…”

Louis nods, wondering if he’s put his foot in it accidentally.  “Does it… does it bother you, like, to talk about them?  I didn’t mean to-“

“No, it’s… I mean, yeah, it hurts a bit but it’s better in a way.  Like, they _existed_ , right?  And sometimes I worry if I don’t talk about them, I might forget them and I don’t want that, that’d suck.  And they wouldn’t want me to be sad, so I try not to be.” 

“How’s that working?” Louis asks wryly, because he can’t imagine it.  He texts his mum every single day; he’d be lost without her.

“Some days better than others, to be honest.” Liam grins, and Louis can see the flash of his teeth in the dim shadow of the streetlights. 

“And your dad? Did he sing too?”

Liam laughs, head tipped back, and then shakes his head.  “No.  Definitely not.  Couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket!  But he loved that I could, he was so proud.  He was the one who insisted I go to uni, that I do something with it.  I was all set to work with him at the factory making aeroplanes, but he wouldn’t hear it.  Said I’d be wasting a gift.”

“But you’re not at university now?”

“No, I’m sitting out this year – without my parents’ help on rent, I couldn’t swing it unless I worked full time and I couldn’t manage that _and_ university at the same time.  But I should have enough saved up for next year, and the student loan amount will go up a bit because of…”  Liam trails off then, and Louis reaches out then, squeezes his shoulder since they’re still walking and it would probably be bad form to tackle him into a hug.  They’re silent again for a long moment, but this time it’s Liam that breaks it.  “Anyway, that’s me… what about you?

“I’m doing media and communications, so I can move to London and take over the telly and be worshipped by everyone,”  Louis says, following it with a self-deprecating laugh.  “No, honestly, I just like to entertain people, to make them laugh.  And just to talk to them, and find out what makes them tick and all.  It’d be sick to have my own chat show someday.  Like, if we’re talking pipe dreams and all that.”

“Oh, well if it’s pipe dreams we’re on, then I’ll come on your chat show.  After I’ve sold a million albums and toured the world and won awards and stuff.”  Liam grins.

“Oh, I am totally holding you to that!  After you win X-Factor or The Voice, and you’ve conquered the world, I have dibs on your tell-all interview.”  Louis knocks his shoulder into Liam’s, makes him stumble a bit.  “So please work on the whole hookers-and-blow aspect of your career so we can have the part where you cry over hitting rock bottom and then talk about your inspirational recovery.”

They’re walking in front of a shop now, and Louis can see Liam’s face scrunch up adorably as he giggles.  “I will try not to disappoint.”

“See that you don’t,” Louis returns primly, then bursts into a grin. 

They’re in front of Louis’s building, and Louis wishes they had farther to go.  He steps up on the first step, and it makes him an inch taller than Liam.

And there’s a moment where he finds himself leaning in, just like it’s the end of any really good date night, ‘til a horn blares in the distance and he realises what he’s doing.  Who this is.  Harry’s boyfriend.

He straightens, a little horrified at himself.  “Um, well, goodnight then.”

Liam doesn’t seem to notice the awkward moment, just smiles his perfect smile and says goodnight. 

Louis watches him walk away, watches until he turns the corner out of sight, watches the straight line of his shoulders and the way the streetlight glints off his hair and the cling of denim to the curve of his arse. 

Oh, _fuck_.

~*~

Liam’s humming under his breath as he comes out of the stairwell by his flat, smiling to himself as he digs his key out.  It was a good night, a great night, and he can feel it all buzzing under his skin.

Zayn’s leaning against his door, playing on his phone.  “Hey, mate,” he says, without looking up.

“Hey,” Liam returns, shoving him over enough to get to the doorknob.  “I thought you were going to Niall’s?”

“Gave my excuses so Nialler could continue to get knocked back by Gemma in private.” Zayn shrugs. “And I needed to talk to you.”

“Come on in then.” Liam unlocks the door, and waves Zayn in.  “What’s up?”

“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.  What’s up.  What’s up with you and Lou?” Zayn follows him in and flops himself down on one end of the futon that takes up a good portion of the one-room flat.

Liam frowns, confused.  “What do you mean?  Nothing’s up.”

“S’not what it looked like tonight.”

Liam thinks either he’s had too much to drink, or Zayn has, because, “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You and Louis.  The flirting.  The banter.  The sweet glances all night long.  In front of your fake boyfriend’s _sister_.  That’s what I’m talking about.”

“That’s just Louis, we weren’t flirting.” Liam goes to the sink and pours them both a glass of water, because clearly Zayn needs it.  He hands one off to Zayn, and takes a sip of his own.  “It’s just how he is, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’m not talking about how he is, I’m talking about you.  You look at him like- well, like I’ve never seen you look at anyone, really.  And it took you ages to get home.  It’s a ten minute walk, tops.”

Liam flushes, and hugs one arm across his stomach.  “We were just talking-“

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, Liam.  I like Louis, he seems like a top lad.  Harry, I couldn’t say, but you don’t talk about them the same. You don’t get the same dopey look on your face when you talk about Harry as you do when you look at Louis, and all I’m saying is.  I don’t know.  Be careful?  Think about what you really want, because… I don’t know, I think maybe you’re going after the wrong guy here.”

“It’s not like that.” Liam hugs his arms tighter to his chest.  “I mean, Louis’s great, he’s amazing and so funny, but I’m not… He wouldn’t want…  How would that even work? Even if I wanted that, he thinks I’m dating his best mate.”

“You’d have to come clean.”  Zayn shrugs.  “At least to him, tell him what happened, how you got caught up in it all, and just hope he understands, I guess.”

“He’ll hate me,” Liam whispers, half to himself. 

Zayn claps one hand on his shoulder, and squeezes.  “Really don’t think he will, mate.”

They sit in companionable silence, while Liam thinks about it, thinks about how funny and sweet and great Louis is, and how great his hugs are, and the way his eyes are so blue it makes Liam’s breath catch sometimes, and… oh.  He makes a small, wounded noise, and Zayn puts one arm around him and pulls him closer.  Liam looks up at him and sighs.  “I think I fancy Louis.”

~*~

It takes a night of tossing and turning for Liam to steel his nerves, and come to the inevitable conclusion that he has to do it.  He’s going to tell them the truth today.

He’s been trying to work it out on the whole bus journey to the hospital; what to say, how to apologise, who will hate him the most when he’s done.

So far the only answer he’s coming up with is _everyone_ , and Liam’s trying to be okay with that.  Well, to be honest, he’s hoping just not to cry in front of them; that might be close enough to a victory here.  He’s lost in his thoughts as he comes up the pavement from the bus stop and makes the sharp turn to go in the door, and he nearly collides with Louis.

“Hi.” Louis sounds a bit breathless, and his hair’s all fly-away quiff, and Liam feels a bit dizzy just looking at his smile.  Louis’s all up in his personal space, and his face is too close, and Liam kind of wants to kiss him.

“Hi, sorry.” Liam can’t look away, and they’re stuck there for a moment too long, just smiling at each other and Liam can’t stop himself, he has to say something.  He reaches out to wrap his hand around Louis’s arm, to tug him away from the door.  “Look, I need to talk to you-”

But he doesn’t get it all out because there’s a muffled shout from inside the doorway.  The door flies open, and Gemma’s there, tears streaming down her face and out of breath like she’s been running.  She stares at them both, eyes wide and wild before breaking into the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her.  “He’s awake.  Harry.  Harry’s _awake_.”

~*~

Liam thinks he’ll remember every second of the walk to Harry’s hospital room for the rest of his life.

It’s not that far, really, but it feels like slow motion, like being underwater for too long and thinking you might not make it back to the surface.  Or like walking to the gallows, because surely he’s awaiting judge, jury, and executioner in the form of Harry Styles.

_Who is not his actual boyfriend_.

He wants to be happy, _is_ in fact, is relieved that Harry’s awake because he means so much to these people who have been so kind to Liam.  Anne deserves to have her son back, and Gemma her brother, and Louis his best mate.  If he were a better person, he’d be more pleased for them, and less afraid about what he’s going to lose.  Because maybe they’d have forgiven him if he’d told them, but he can’t see how that will happen when they hear it from Harry.

He thinks about running, about bolting out of the hospital never to be seen again, but Louis’s got an iron grip around his wrist, pulling him down the hallway after Gemma, both of them chattering a mile a minute.  Liam looks up as they pull him past the nurses’ station and he meets the eyes of the nurse who got him into this mess.  She looks as pale and frightened as he feels, and he mouths the word ‘ _Go_ ’ at her as he passes, because one of them ought to get out of this unscathed and it clearly isn’t going to be him, so.

Harry’s propped up in the bed, Anne stroking one hand through his hair soothingly as he talks to her.  He still looks pale and weak, but after days of watching him lie motionless, it seems to Liam like he’s so animated.  He catches sight of Louis and his whole face brightens, a giant grin taking over.  “Lou!  I thought you’d abandoned me for a bevy of Latin lovers.  Did you come back just because I was poorly?”

“None of them could hold a candle to you, Styles.” Louis nudges Harry’s knee as he comes up to the bedside.  “Besides, bedside vigil is a hot look for me.  The boys have been flocking to me.”

“Ha!” Harry barks out a loud laugh that seems to echo off the walls, and then immediately covers his mouth with an IV-taped hand.  “So I see.  Who’s your friend?”

The ensuing silence is shocked and uncomfortable, but Harry doesn’t seem to notice.  He frowns, reaching out and grabbing the hem of his mum’s jumper.  “Why’re you wearing a Christmas jumper, Mum?  Bit early for that, isn’t it?”

“It’s three days ‘til Christmas, love.”  Anne answers quietly, flashing a quick look up at Liam before returning her attention to her son.  “Are you sure your eyesight’s doing alright?  That’s Liam, dear.”

“Liam?  Christmas? What’re you talking about, Mum?”  Harry’s brow crinkles as he looks up at her.  “It’s only August.”

He levels a steady look at Liam, brow furrowed, and says, “Do I know you?”

And the room explodes in chaos, but it’s not what Liam thought it would be, all the times he pictured it in his head.  Instead of screaming and accusations, there’s doctors and nurses piling in, and they’re examining Harry and testing him like he’s the one in the wrong.  He hears ‘amnesia’ and ‘hopefully temporary’ and Anne’s sniffling  and Gemma’s helping the doctors ask Harry questions. 

Liam edges toward the door in all the mayhem, because in all this time it’s never felt so clear that he doesn’t belong here, that this really is all a lie.  He needs to get _out_ , he needs-

“Hey, you alright, mate?” Louis’s got one hand on his shoulder, and puts the other on Liam’s chest and says, “Liam, breathe, okay?”

Liam didn’t realise he wasn’t until Louis pointed it out, and he sucks in air rapidly.  “I can’t…  I need to go.”

“Let’s get you some air, yeah?” Louis tugs at him, out into the hallway away from the zoo of Harry’s hospital room and into the hushed quiet of Intensive Care. 

Liam feels weak at the knees, and he slumps against the wall, sagging down it ‘til he’s seated on the floor.  Louis kneels next to him, practically curled into a ball as he looks at Liam with a sad, earnest gaze.  “Hey, hey, it’s okay.  It’s going to be okay, Liam.  He’s awake, and yeah, it sucks that he’s having trouble remembering stuff and you guys, but it’ll come back.”

Liam tips his head back and closes his eyes, because he’s so confused right now - should he want that, Harry to get his memory back, or should he not, and which one makes him a worse person?  Because right now he can’t parse it all, how he’s supposed to feel.  He sighs and rubs at his eyes, and Louis cups a warm hand around the back of his neck.  He forces himself to look at him again, and Louis says, “He’ll remember and this will be something you both laugh about some day, like, the blackmail you use to get him to do stuff he doesn’t want to because, hey, ‘remember that time you forgot our entire relationship existed?’”

Liam huffs out a laugh, because that’s both funny and not the problem here, but Louis must take it as skepticism, because he keeps going, “Or he won’t remember, but you’ll get past it.  He fell for you once already, Liam.  He’ll just do it again.  Because you’re-“ Louis pauses, almost imperceptibly.  “You’re pretty easy to fall for.”

Liam smiles for a second, lets himself pretend that Louis means that the way he wants him to, that Louis could fancy him as well, before forcibly reminding himself that Louis’s talking about his _best mate_ here.  “I should go.”

“No!” Louis protests.  “You should come back in and-“

“He just woke up,” Liam says softly.  “I should go, give him some time.  He must be so freaked out.  Seeing me won’t help that.”

He pulls away from Louis’s grip, makes himself stand.  Louis looks like he wants to protest again, but he takes the hand Liam offers and lets him pull him to his feet.  “Stop being so reasonable, Liam.  It makes it terribly difficult to argue with you.”

“And yet you still find a way.” Liam grins, and Louis laughs. 

~*~

Liam gets a text that evening from Louis, and when he opens it, his heart sinks a bit.

_Hi, it’s Harry.  Those bastards stole my mobile, so Lou’s lent me his.  Are you busy?_

And he’s tempted to lie, or not respond, but in the end, he caves and sends back _noo, i’m not. how r u feeelinggg?_

_Sore. Bored. Confused, tbh.  Everyone’s filled me in about you. I’m sorry about today. Come see me?_

Liam looks at the clock – it’s half seven, and if he leaves now, he can be at the hospital before visiting hours end.  He texts back _don’t_ _wannna intrude on your family time_ but he’s already putting his shoes back on, even before he gets Harry’s reply.

_They’ve gone – I think they’re all a bit overwhelmed I’m awake & stuff.  Meltdowns for everyone! Come see me_.

He sends back _Okayyy.  It’ll be a bitt, gotta cathc the bus. U need nethng??_ as he locks up.

_A Liam-to-English dictionary? Your spelling is awful. :)  No, don’t need anything._

Liam smiles and texts back, _so ive been told, sorryyyy on my waay_ , and he starts down the stairs.  He’s nearly to the bus stop when he gets Harry’s reply.

_Hey.  Tell me something about you.  So I can think about it while I’m waiting for you._

A week ago, Liam would have found that so romantic, that Harry wanted to think about him, but now… now it’s just another reminder that Harry doesn’t know him.  He thinks about it for a second, and then types out, _I sing_.

He sends it and doesn’t get a reply, and spends the whole ride to the hospital wondering if that was too awkward or what Harry thinks of that, if that was what he meant or if Liam should have sent something more risqué, like was that an opening for sexting?  But that seems far too weird, because they really don’t know each other and he knows that even if Harry doesn’t.  He rests his head against the window wearily.  He can hear his mother’s disappointed voice in his head, saying, _“This is why you shouldn’t tell lies, Liam Payne.”_

Harry looks up from Louis’s phone when Liam walks in, and he smiles.  “Hi, Liam.”

“Hey, Harry.”  It’s not as weird as it ought to be, but then he’s been saying hello to an unconscious Harry for almost a week now.  He grabs a straight-backed chair from the wall, and sets it down backward by the bed and straddles it – a familiar movement after a week of hospital visits.  “How’s it going?”

“I’m alright.  Head hurts a bit, but nothing horrible.  The doctor says there shouldn’t be much scarring.” Harry drawls out, and his voice sounds the same as it always did at the station but after a week of listening to Louis’s lightning-fast stream of consciousness speak, Liam finds himself impatient.

Liam nods, and says, “That’s good, then.”

And they sit there for a minute, silence stretching awkwardly between them. Liam looks down at his hands on the back of the chair.

“So you like music?”

“Do you need more water?”

They talk over each other, and it comes out as a desperate attempt at conversation, and Liam scrubs one hand through his buzzed-short hair and meets Harry’s gaze.  He’s got a tiny smile, lips pursed like he wants to laugh at the situation, and it makes Liam smile back at him.

“I do remember you, you know.  From the train station, when I would go to visit Caroline on the weekends.”  Harry draws up short, looking sheepishly embarrassed.  “Er, did you know about Caroline?”

Liam shakes his head, shrugging.  “No, but I always figured you were going… somewhere like that.”

Harry quirks one eyebrow up, and says, “Oh? Why’s that?”

“You always had on tops that show off your tattoos,” Liam explains, and he can’t stop the teasing curve of his smile.  “And I could smell your cologne through the bulletproof glass.”

Harry covers his face and laughs.  “So what you’re saying then is that I’m not subtle when I’m on the pull?”

Liam nearly giggles at that, he can’t help it, his face scrunched up as he shake his head no, but Harry looks pleased and sits up.  “It worked on you though, right?”

Liam sobers at that, and Harry’s smile softens sadly around the edges.  He reaches out and covers one of Liam’s hands with one of his, the big, wide hands Liam spent so much time staring at during ticket transactions and imagining this moment.  “I’m sorry I don’t remember you the way you want, the way I should.”

And then he leans down and before Liam can fully register what’s happening, they’re kissing.

~*~

Harry’s right where Louis left him when he comes in the next day, and it’s still such a relief to see him awake that it’s hard to be annoyed that he’s probably used all Louis’s mobile data allotment for the month.  “Hey, Hazza!  I hear they might let us spring you outta this joint today.”

“If I play my cards right.” Harry looks up from the phone with a smile.  “Also, your American accent is atrocious.”

Louis tsks.  “Clearly you’ve taken a blow to the head and don’t recognise talent when you hear it.  Budge over, make room for me.”

Harry obliges, and Louis hops up on the bed, cuddling up to Harry and giving him a squeezing hug.  Yesterday had been weird, chaotic with what seemed like the whole world buzzing in and out of the room.  Now it’s just them for the first time, with Anne off dealing with the administrative tasks of getting Harry discharged and Gemma and Robin packing up their hotel.  Louis leans into Harry, and asks, “How is your head?”

“A little sore, but otherwise fine.  Except for not remembering anything after the first week of lectures.”  Harry shrugs nonchalantly, and then immediately switches to looking horrified.   “Oh, god, does that mean I’ll have to repeat the term?”

Louis laughs, hiding his face against Harry’s shoulder for a second before he answers.  “It’s not like you remember anything from your _other_ lectures, so I’m guessing no.”

“Oh.  Fair point.”

“At least you’d already sat exams.  Can you imagine, waking up right before?”  Louis wrinkles his nose, and Harry laughs.

“Well, at least my luck’s not that shit. I already took the tests, and I didn’t get hit by a train, thanks to Liam, so there’s that.”

Louis doesn’t really know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t, just rests his chin on Harry’s shoulder, digging in to be an annoying little shit.  Harry just ignores it, like always.  He looks thoughtful, his brow furrowed, and after a bit he says, “So how did I tell you? About Liam, I mean?”

“You didn’t.  I just showed up from my trip, jetlagged and still smelling like my last night out in Argentina, and you were in a coma and you had a boyfriend.”

“I know, it’s really serious.” Harry deadpans, and Louis snuffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes.  “I didn’t tell you, though?  That’s really weird.”

“That’s what I thought too!  But no, you just went ahead with your life-changing epiphanies all by your lonesome.  I get it though, Liam’s pretty great.” Louis looks down at the pattern of faint dots on Harry’s hospital gown.

Harry’s quiet for a minute, and Louis wonders if he’s said something out of turn.  “Yeah, he seems like a nice bloke and all…”

Louis raises an eyebrow, because he knows that expression on his best mate, the one that says he has something to say but doesn’t know how to get it out. 

“He came back to visit last night, I asked him to, and it was… I mean, he was very nice, and he didn’t seem too upset about my not remembering him, and I wanted to, you know?  Remember, I mean.  And the nurse here had told me all about how he pulled me from the train tracks at the last second and saved my life, and you guys were all full of these stories about how he’s been here the whole time and I thought well, if we fancied each other, maybe my body would remember what my brain doesn’t, right?”

Louis suddenly doesn’t have a good feeling about this, in the pit of his stomach, but he waits for Harry to finish.

“So I snogged him.”

“What, just out of the blue?”

“Mmhmm.”

“And?”

“Well, it was strange.  I mean, it was alright, he wasn’t _bad_ at it or anything.  I just didn’t feel anything, you know?  Like no spark or whatever.  It was just - like, nothing there.  Shouldn’t there be something different? Like, if I liked him enough to… “ Harry trails off, waving one hand in the air in a way that Louis supposes is meant to mean ‘shag his brains out with all the gay sex.’

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

“And Gemma’s cross with me because she caught me flirting with one of the hospital volunteers that came by this morning, but I couldn’t help it, she was well fit.”

Louis frowns, and tries not to be cross as well.  It’s not Harry’s fault he can’t remember Liam.  And there’s a little voice in his head that _says this is your chance, you could break them up, you could have him_.  Because maybe Harry won’t ever remember, won’t ever love Liam, and that would mean…

It freaks him out because Harry is his platonic life-partner and you don’t screw your friends over like this, and how is he going to sit Harry down and explain that he can’t possibly ever feel about Liam the way Louis does, like the world spins around Louis when he smiles and how excited he gets about the littlest things.  Harry can’t possibly know all that and that it’s all backwards and wrong and Louis can’t breathe.

He can’t be that person.  And even if he could, Liam isn’t something Harry can just give him, like a jumper or whatever.  Liam chose Harry, and Louis just needs to get over himself and be their friend.  He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.  “Look, you just have to get to know him.  He’s lovely, and really funny although sometimes I don’t think he means to be, and just superbly talented – have you heard him sing?”

Harry listens quietly, intently, as Louis keeps extolling Liam’s virtues, and he’s got that tiny furrow between his brows again by the time Louis gets around to rambling, “And yes, his spelling is atrocious but after a while it just becomes endearing, really and –“

“Okay, Louis, Jesus,” Harry breaks in with a fond smile, like he’s trying not to laugh at Louis.  “I get it – you’re on Team Liam along with everyone else, and I ought to join as well.”

“See that you do.” Louis huffs, and Harry shoves at him, pushing him into the railing of the narrow bed. 

“Mum wants you to drive him up to the house on Christmas Eve, since we’re heading back today probably and he’s only off the two days.  Have a big dinner for your birthday and all-”  Harry says quietly, and Louis squeezes him tighter. 

They lie there in the quiet for a long moment, and Harry’s voice is tired and sad when he speaks again.  “I really am trying to remember him.”

I know you are, Curly.”  Louis knocks his head against Harry’s lightly.  He just wishes he didn’t feel so conflicted about it.  “I know.”

~*~

Liam is resolved.

Okay, so he’s been resolved before, and it hasn’t worked out, but this time, _this time_ he really has a plan.

Niall says it’s a shite plan, and Zayn agrees with him, but their last plan involved breaking the law and nearly getting caught, so Liam thinks they don’t get a vote any more.

He’s only had about twenty-four hours to come up with the plan, so not all the details are worked out yet, but it mainly consists of three points.

Point A:  Make it through Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with Harry’s family.

Point B:  Disappear and never see any of them again.

Point C:  Die alone and heartbroken.

Liam thinks its brilliance lies in its simplicity.

“There are so many flaws in this, I can’t even start with you.” Zayn blows cigarette smoke into the frigid afternoon air, switching hands so he can stick the other one in his pocket for warmth as they stand on the street corner in front of the kebab shop down the street from their building where Liam told Louis to pick him up for their trip.  “Like, they’re going to find you.  It’s not going to work.”

“For someone who can’t start, you’re doing awfully well at it,” Liam mutters.  “And it will too work, shut up.”

Zayn gives Liam a withering look.  Or maybe it’s an ‘I’m fucking freezing’ look.  Sometimes it’s hard to tell with Zayn.  “They know where you work.  Louis knows where you live.”

“Louis knows _nearly_ where I live,” Liam corrects, knocking one foot nervously against the case of his guitar.  “I never told him which building, and okay, I can never get kebabs here again and that’s going to suck, I probably should have thought that through, but you know.  It’s a sacrifice.”

“He still knows where you work, he’s been there.  I say, just come clean and deal with the fallout, mate.  Twenty minutes of awkward, then you’re off scot-free!  All you have to do is tell Harry you aren’t interested in any more really awful snogging, and that you want to jump his best mate.  How could that go wrong?”

“Oh my god, why do I tell you things?  No good ever comes of it.” Liam thunks his head against the glass of the shop window.

They’ve been arguing about this since Liam got back from the hospital and shared the plan with Zayn a day ago.  He’d gone there to see Harry, thinking maybe he could explain and it wouldn’t have to be strange.  Okay, there’s no way it wouldn’t be strange, but still.

Then he’d seen them as he’d walked down the hallway to Harry’s room, the privacy blinds drawn back now that Harry’s awake.  Harry and Louis, curled together on a bed barely big enough to accommodate one person, their heads bent together as they whispered like five year olds telling secrets. 

And he’d known they were close, best mates, but knowing and seeing are two different things.  There’s no scenario he can think of where Louis, sweet, loving, overprotective Louis, doesn’t see this whole thing as the giant betrayal of trust that it is.  He tried visualizing it, but somewhere around the time Louis’s face falls into the serious expression Liam’s seen a couple of times when he was tired and worried for Harry, but like amplified a hundred times, he starts to feel ill and can’t think about it anymore.

Nope, this is definitely for the best. 

“Still knows where you work,” Zayn mutters, but Liam sees Louis’s car turn onto the street and he doesn’t have time to do more than say, “Drop it, okay?” before Louis’s pulled up and rolled the passenger window down.

“Zayn!  You joining us, mate?” Louis’s grinning ear-to-ear, clearly over-caffeinated if the Red Bull cans littering his dashboard are any indication.

“Nah, mate.  S’not like I’d fit in there anyway, have you moved out?” Zayn leans down, ducking his head in the window.  The back seat of Louis’s car is full with canvas bags and sloppily-wrapped presents that look like they’re about to topple over.

“We could make room, I can move my dirty pants just for you.” He laughs as Zayn’s face contorts in disgust.  “Figure if I’m pathetic enough about it, I can get Anne or my mum to do three months’ washing for me.”

“Airing your dirty laundry?  Yeah, capital idea, that.” Zayn throws a dark look at Liam, and Liam actually wants to kill him in that moment. 

Louis just looks confused.  “What’s that, mate?”

“Nothing,” Liam answers for Zayn, and yanks him back from the window by the collar of his jacket.  “We need to go.  Bye, Zayn.  Happy Christmas and whatnot.”

He shoves his guitar in the back, squeezing it in the tight space between the mountain of clothes and the floorboard, and jumps in, trying to balance getting in the car quickly with not ruining the flowers he’d bought in a panic this morning to give to Anne. 

“Oooo-kay,” Louis drawls, eyebrows raised.  “I’m not even going to ask.  Bye, Zayn! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!  Enjoy this season of _forgiveness_ and – “

Liam rolls up the window.  “Ignore Zayn.  I think he takes drugs.”

Louis just laughs, and throws the car back into gear.  “You are an odd, odd boy.  I like it.”

Liam just shrugs, and insults the music Louis’s listening to and, in the ensuing bickering, they make it out of the city and into the countryside.  They’re singing along with The Killers, with Louis occasionally making up dirty lyrics and Liam giggling ‘til his face is actually sore, before the conversation takes a turn for the awkward.

“You joining us for New Year’s, then?  Harry and I always throw a big bash.  I mean, we’ll probably scale it back a little this year, because head injury and all, but it should still be sick.  Zayn and Niall, too, whoever you want to invite, it’ll be killer,” Louis says, changing gears as they overtake someone driving at a snail’s pace in front of them.   Liam’s glad Louis’s too busy driving to take his eyes off the road because there’s surely guilt written all over his face.

“Er, I uh.  I can’t.  I’ve got work, and I don’t drink anyway. So.  That wouldn’t be much fun.”

“Nonsense!  It was fun when we went out before, and I know Harry wants you there.  Oh!” He breaks off and looks chagrined.  “I suppose I should have let him invite you, given that you’re his- um.  Well, just pretend to be surprised when he asks you, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Liam says quietly, and looks away, out the passenger window.  His stomach churns, and he wishes it were different, that he could ring the new year in with Louis for real.  That he hadn’t made horrible mess of his life in the span of a week.   He sighs and closes his eyes, leaning against the car window.  Louis leaves him to it, probably thinking he’s upset because of Harry, which makes it worse.

Soon enough, he can feel them pulling off the motorway.  He opens his eyes again, as they pull in to a wide, paved driveway, and up to what looks to be the poshest house Liam’s ever seen in person.  His own parents lived in a terraced house, room enough for the five of them, if his sisters bunked in together, nice and well-kept.  This is a whole other world – they’ve got land, and behind the house he can see the edge of a pool and a guesthouse or something.  Liam tries not to stare too much as he gets out of the car, shouldering his guitar, but he must be a little wide-eyed.

“Crazy, innit?” Louis laughs, and nudges Liam’s shoulder.  “Don’t worry, Anne’ll still love you if you break something.  Voice of experience here.”

Before Liam can respond with more than a laugh, the front door bangs open and Harry bounces out.  “You made it!”

He dashes down the steps to the circle drive and swoops Louis up in a hug.  “Happy birthday, Lou!”

Liam watches as Harry then proceeds to climb on Louis ‘til he topples them over into a pile on the ground, covering Louis’s face with slobbery kisses and only subsiding when Louis twists his nipple so hard he yelps.  Harry looks up at Liam sheepishly and says, “Hi.”

“Hey.” Liam offers him a hand up, and Harry takes it, lumbering back to his feet.  There’s an awkward moment where Liam thinks they’re supposed to kiss, but Harry just gives him a quick squeeze on the shoulder and he tries not to sigh in relief.  He looks down to where Louis’s still sprawled on the wet walkway, and offers him a hand as well.  “I didn’t know it was your birthday.”

“Yup! Most important day of the year, better mark it on your calendar.” Louis bounds to his feet after a brief failed attempt to pull Liam down.  “You get a pass this year, but next year I expect far more adulation from you.”

Liam’s smile fades for a second, thinking that he won’t know Louis next year, but he forces himself to get past it and just says, “Happy birthday, Louis.”

Robin and Anne come out, and they all start unloading the car.  Anne just starts laughing when she sees the monstrous pile of laundry Louis’s brought, shooing him toward the kitchen to start a load, and they all start bringing things in.  Anne’s hung mistletoe in the entryway, and they make a game of it as they all get caught at various times.  Harry spins Gemma around and kisses her on the cheek as they pass, and they all dissolve in giggles as Louis dips Robin and gives him a smacking kiss on the mouth. 

“Oh, you brought your guitar – are you going to play for us?” Anne exclaims as they’re going for the last load. 

Liam nods as he reaches into the front seat to retrieve the flowers he’d brought her.  “I thought I would, if that’s alright?  I couldn’t bring much… so I thought I might sing for my supper, as it were.”

“You’re gift enough on your own, Liam,” she says softly, and gives him a hug; he tries not to cling.  “Thank you though, these are lovely.  And Gemma hasn’t stopped going on about how wonderful you were, I can’t wait to hear you sing.”

He ducks his head, cheeks flushing as he follows her into the house.  She takes his coat and he’s a few feet behind her when Louis pops out of a doorway in front of him.  Louis looks surprised for a second, and then looks up, then at Liam, then back up.  Liam smiles hesitantly.  “What?”

“Looks like we’re caught then, mate.” Louis points up at the ball of mistletoe, and Liam says, “Oh.”

“Kiss!”  Harry’s voice rings down the hallway and they both turn.  He looks at them both and shouts, “Come on – it’s a Christmas rule, no passes,” before disappearing around the corner.

Louis shrugs and reaches up to curl a hand around Liam’s neck. Liam bends down, and Louis’s breath ghosts over his skin as he says, “You heard the man.”

It’s quick, chaste – just a soft brush of their lips together.  Liam tries not to react, not even as Louis’s thumb strokes softly across the line of his jaw. Louis’s gone as quick as he came, moving on across the hallway and through another door.  Liam licks his lips to stop them tingling, and it’s stupid and cliché, like every stupid romantic comedy he’s ever seen, but he thinks he can taste Louis and he barely stops himself from reaching up to touch his mouth as Harry pops his head back around the corner.  “Hey, you coming?  Come and see my new phone!”

The problem is, Harry’s _trying._   He shows off his new mobile and texts Liam ‘Happy Christmas!!!’ so he’ll have the number.  He shows Liam around the house, doesn’t blink an eye when he unpacks a clean set of clothes out of his guitar case, and in a quiet moment upstairs softly asks if there’s any traditions Liam has that he’d like to uphold.  Liam knows he’d feel bad anyway, but Harry being sweet to him just exacerbates the whole thing ‘til Liam thinks he might actually drown in his own guilt.

By the time Anne breaks out the cocktails and starters before dinner, his palms are sweating.  She asks if he wouldn’t mind playing, like he’s doing her a favour, and it calms him down as he goes through all the Christmas classics.  He resolutely doesn’t look up from the frets as he goes through ‘All I Want For Christmas is You,’ too afraid of what his face would give away by looking at either Harry or Louis.

And then they sit down to dinner.  They’ve sat him next to Harry, of course, and across from Gemma and Louis.  Anne brings in the hotpot she’s made, which is apparently Louis’s favourite.  She sets it down in the centre before she takes her seat.  Robin clears his throat and stands up.

“A toast before we start,” he says, and Harry rings his cutlery against his glass, laughing as Robin makes a haphazard swipe at him to get him to stop.  “We feel so lucky to be here this Christmas with our family and friends, with our children whole and healthy again.  There were a few times this week I wasn’t sure that was going to happen.” He pauses, tearing up a bit.  “But it’s things like this that make us realise how our family and friends hold us up and help us through our troubles, and how lucky we are.  Harry, we’re so happy that you’re home with us.”

There’s not a dry eye at the table, and Liam swallows hard and looks over at Louis, who mouths ‘ _Criers, the lot of them_ ,’ at him, like he’s not tearing up himself as Robin goes on.

“And we know that this Christmas wouldn’t be a happy one, would be something altogether unthinkable, if it weren’t for one person especially.  Liam, son, we couldn’t ever find the words to thank you.  You’ve given us back our son.  You saved him, looked out for him when we couldn’t, and for that we are eternally grateful.  I know you care for him – we’ve seen that over the past week – but no matter what lies ahead, I want you to know that you are always welcome here in our home, you always have a place with us and if there’s ever anything we can do-”

Liam didn’t know it was actually possible to choke on guilt, but it feels like he can’t breathe and he’s on his feet before he realises it, and when he gasps out, “No,” they all stare at him.

“No, I just.  This isn’t right. I have to-” He fumbles, tripping over his own feet trying to get out from the chair and Harry reaches out to catch him, and all he can do is look in his eyes and say, “I’m sorry.”

He looks at them, and he knows he has to do this.  “I am so sorry.  I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t have let it go this far.  I’m not who you think I am.”

They’re all looking at him like he’s lost his mind, and they don’t know the half of it.  He looks at Harry again, and oddly enough, he’s the easiest one to say this to, this boy by whom he used to daydream about being loved.  “We’re not dating.  We never were.  The nurse, she told this doctor we were so I could visit you that first day. I just wanted to check on you and they only let family back, so.  And then the doctor told your mum and dad, and it all just spiraled, and…” He breaks off, choking on his own breath and trying not to cry as he looks down the table at Anne. ”And you _hugged_ me and I just wanted _one day-_ ”

Everyone’s sitting in sort of a shocked silence, and he plows on, “But then the nurse said she might get sacked, and I...  It wasn’t her fault, I mean, I’m responsible, I should have said… I lied.  I’m sorry, it was just… it was just.” He trails off for a second, staring down at the plate that’s nicer than anything his mum ever owned, but it still looks the same and he swallows hard and makes himself go on, because these people deserve an explanation.  “You were all so kind, and it felt like I belonged, and it’s just been so long since, well, since anything was nice.”

His voice breaks there, and he’s losing the battle at holding back his tears and he looks up.  No one’s moved an inch, but tears are sliding slowly down Anne’s face, and it’s like he made his own mum cry; Robin’s still standing, glass in hand.  Gemma looks gobsmacked, and Harry looks like… well, he looks confused and Liam can almost see the questions building behind his eyes.  And then he looks across the table at Louis, and it’s like a window’s shut – there’s no emotion, no spark in his eyes, and he looks like a marble statue.  Liam can’t stop himself from reaching toward him, just a bit, as he says, “And you…”

Louis flinches minutely, and Liam can’t, just suddenly cannot be there, because it’s all ruined.  He chokes out, “I’m…  I’ll just go, I’m sorry.”

He manages to get out the door with his coat half on and his guitar slung over one shoulder.  He spares a quick thought for his best trousers and jumper in the upstairs guestroom, mentally declaring them casualties of his own stupidity.  He’s halfway down to the main road before he realises it’s actually raining, not just his vision blurred from the tears that he can’t hold back anymore.  It’s a cold, steady drizzle, and he laughs for one hysterical moment, because of course, of course it would rain.  This is his life after all.

So he does what he always does, tucks his head down and keeps walking. 

He sets himself on the path toward town.  Five minutes of miserable walking, just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, and he hears the squelch of tires on wet tarmac.  For a second he lets himself think ‘maybe they’ve come after me, maybe _Louis_ has come after me.’  But it’s not a beaten up second-hand Citroën that pulls up and he thinks he can actually feel his heart break, even though he knows that’s stupid.  The car stops though, and the window rolls down to reveal an elderly couple.  The wife leans forward from the passenger seat and calls out, “Do you need a lift, dearie?  You shouldn’t be out in this weather!”

And he nods numbly, thanks them, says, “Yes please, I would love a lift,” and tries not to get their upholstery too wet when he climbs in the back seat and asks if they could please take him to the train station. 

~*~

It’s like the colour’s gone out of his life, Liam thinks, and he knows, _knows_ , he’s being melodramatic, but still.  It’s Boxing Day, which used to be Liam’s absolute favourite part of Christmas  – none of the fuss of Christmas Day, just food and family and days spent playing with new toys.  And in his memory, it’s all so colourful, and it’s like… like with Harry’s family or really, with Louis, he had that colour back for a moment.

The train ride on Christmas Eve from Holmes Chapel was grey.  Grey skies, grey seats, grey mood.  He tried not to cry, but judging by the speed and consistency with which people moved seats to get away from him, it didn’t work. 

The rain kept coming down, all Christmas day, and Liam locked himself in his flat with his headphones on, music up loud and his phone turned off.  He didn’t even pretend not to cry then, because he needed to get it all out – the therapist he saw after his parents died said it wasn’t healthy to hold things in, and Liam is nothing if not a follower of instructions.  He didn’t feel better after, though; just dehydrated. 

And now, he’s at work in his cold little booth, staring at grey concrete as people bundled up, grumpy in the cold and wet, trickle through in drips and drabs.  He’s been shouted at three times already for slow trains, and it feels like the day is never going to end. 

He’s starting to see what Zayn meant about his plan being flawed, even though, in a way, he did what Zayn wanted – albeit in a slightly more dramatic, meltdown-ish fashion.  He just didn’t realise that the ‘die alone’ part would hurt so much.  Because he thought he was lonely before, but now he knows missing an actual someone is worse than missing the _idea_ of someone.  Louis is never going to bring him coffee again, or text him a million times a day, or smile at him until the corners of his eyes crinkle up, or make him laugh ‘til his stomach hurts…

He puts his head down on the cool, hard surface of the ticket counter, and tries to will his eyes to stop stinging and the knot in his chest to loosen.

He stays there for a few minutes, finding a bizarre comfort in it, until he hears a tapping on the glass window.

He lifts his head a few inches, and comes face to face with a tow-headed girl of about six.  She gives him a big smile, and she’s missing a front tooth, but the mischievous look on her face when she knocks again right where his nose is, it’s so _familiar_ and his stomach clenches as he sits all the way up.

And there is Louis, stood in front of his booth on Boxing Day, holding hands with the little girl who knocked and another who looks just like her only dressed in red velvet instead of green.  Fanned out behind them are about ten people of assorted age, with facial expressions ranging from curious to flat-out amused.  Liam looks back at Louis, who just smiles his blinding smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle up, and Liam’s heart trips just a bit.

“Hi-” Louis says softly, and Liam echoes it back.  He blinks once, then again, because maybe he’s hallucinating this, Louis standing in front of him looking for all the world like he _doesn’t_ hate him forever and ever.

“I tried to call you,” Louis speaks into the microphone.

“I turned my phone off.”

“I know.  You shouldn’t do that.  It makes people who care about you worry.  You should turn it back on.”

Liam nods his head dumbly in agreement, then scrambles for his phone when Louis makes an impatient gesture with one hand, much to the annoyance of Louis’s sister who is still attached to it.  Liam fumbles the phone on and tries not to laugh as the girl kicks Louis in the shin and he retaliates by trying to step on her foot like he’s six too.

His phone network kicks in while they’re having a short-lived wrestling match that’s cut short pretty quickly by a woman thwapping Louis on the back of the head.  She must be Louis’s mum but Liam can’t think about that right now.  The notifications start pouring in, voicemails and texts and emails.  And there are some from everyone – Harry, his parents, even Gemma – but mostly from Louis.  He doesn’t look at them all, but the ones he does say things like ‘we’re not mad’ and ‘where are you, we’re worried, pls call.’  He looks up, trying to keep the hope out of his eyes as he looks up at Louis.

“We tried to go after you.  After the shock wore off, I mean.  It took a minute for it all to sink in.  But we couldn’t find you on the road, and then by the time we got to the station, the train had left.”

“I got a lift,” Liam explains, like that’s important, like it even matters, but Louis just nods. 

“But then you wouldn’t answer your phone, and suddenly I realised I didn’t really know where you lived.  So I called Zayn, and he wouldn’t tell me where you lived, but he did tell me when you got off work today.  In exchange though, I have to ask you a question.” 

Liam swallows hard.  “What’s that?”

He meets Louis’s gaze squarely, and he’s not seen Louis look so serious about anything before, no trace of amusement in his clear blue eyes as he asks, “Do you fancy Harry?”

“No!” Liam declares emphatically.  And then his innate honesty kicks in, and he has to add, “I mean, I thought I did, once, before…”

He stops, takes a deep breath because this is hard but he owes Louis this, because Louis’s _here_ and that has to mean something.  “Before I met you.”

“Zayn said you’d say something like that.” Louis looks relieved for a moment.  He continues.  “And he said to tell you that your plan was flawed, and he told you so.”

Liam rolls his eyes, he can’t help it, and Louis laughs.  They look at each other for a long moment, then Liam says, “So you decided to track me down at work, with…”  He waves a hand at their crowd of onlookers helplessly and trails off.

“Like I said, you have people who care about you, who worry.  People who still care about you, even if you didn’t tell them the truth when you should have.  And it seemed like maybe the whole reason for this mess was that you missed having a family.”  Louis looks down for a second, then takes a deep breath.  “So this is my family.  My sisters –“ He holds up their hands just a bit too far, making them stretch and giggle, and two other girls wave as well.  “And my mum and her boyfriend Phil, and my Nan and Granddad, and my Aunt Phyllis and Uncle Jim, and well… there are more, but they couldn’t all come for dinner, and I thought maybe…”

Louis breaks off, and his cheeks flush lightly.  “Maybe if you were looking to join a family – I mean for Boxing Day, not like _join_ , it’s too soon for that but maybe after we’ve dated for a long time and all…”

He trails off for a second, then rallies and says, “Liam Payne, would you go out for Boxing Day dinner with me and my whole crazy family?  Or for coffee tomorrow? Or the cinema next week, or anything at all really because I’m getting a little desperate here and if you say no, all of these people are going to make fun of me for ages, really.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s going to happen anyway,” one of the older sisters pipes up, and Liam laughs. 

“But it’ll be less humiliating if you’ve gone out with me,” Louis says, and gives Liam his best schoolboy smile, and Liam can feel his smile widen.

“So is that a yes then?”  Louis’s eyes are clear blue and so hopeful, and really, there’s only one thing Liam can say. 

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Louis looks so chuffed, and Liam really wants to kiss him.  “To which part?  Dinner?  Coffee? ”

“All of it, really,” Liam says with a helpless shrug.  “Really, anything you want.”

Louis’s eyes shine, and he bounces on his toes a bit and says, “Will you come out of your booth, are you allowed?”

Liam gestures at the door, and Louis drops his sisters’ hands and disappears around the corner.  Liam walks over to the door and takes a shaky breath, with a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Louis’s family is still there, that this isn’t all one giant hallucination.  They’re all there, watching.

Louis’s Nan winks at him.  Oh, god.

He wrenches the door open fast, and Louis’s actually in front of him, looking up at him with a smile that’s equal parts happy and hopeful.  “So you said anything?”

The glint in Louis’s eyes ought to worry Liam, but. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Louis steps up into the booth, into Liam’s space, and then they’re kissing, really kissing this time.  Every nerve in Liam lights up and this, this is what it’s supposed to feel like.  It’s as much a hug as a kiss, and by the time they break apart to breathe, they’re wrapped up in each other.  Louis tips his head back to look up into Liam’s eyes, and says, “All I want for Christmas is you.”

And then they’re giggling against each other, and Liam’s never felt anything more like home.

~*~

_Epilogue: Ten Years Later_

“And that is the story of how your dads met and fell in love, all because of me.”

Liam leans against the door frame to his daughter’s room, watching silently as Harry finishes telling her the story.  He can hear the clink of glass-wear and laughter rising up from the kitchen where the whole assorted Tomlinson family is cleaning up after yet another Boxing Day dinner.

Harriet wrinkles her tiny nose and frowns up at her godfather.  “But weren’t you angry with Dad? Lying is bad.”

“How could I be upset?” Harry asks.  “I got my memory back, and I knew that your dad hadn’t meant to lie – he was just lonely and sad.  And he had the good taste to fall for my best mate.  They fell in love while I was sleeping.”

 

 


End file.
